It Takes A Village
by waterbaby134
Summary: A triple homicide in Sacramento bears all the hallmarks of 3XK, and the team from the NYPD are brought in to help establish if it really is the serial killer they've been chasing, much to the chagrin of Lisbon, and amusement of Jane.
1. Two Teams, One Case

**I know I'm taking a major gamble by posting this. I've never written a crossover before, but always wanted to have a go at it, and I have to say, I had great fun writing this.**

**Disclaimer: I own neither 'Castle' nor 'The Mentalist' and nothing affiliated with either of them. If I did, I'd make sure they weren't on rival networks so a crossover might actually be a possibility and not just a figment of my imagination.**

**Shout-outs to Shani8 who actually gave me the idea to tackle a crossover in one of her reviews, and to my pal ScientificAnomaly who let me run the theory by her and told me what she thought.**

**Rated T for language, sexual references and so on.**

**This story is set in late Season 3 of both shows, but before the season finales (we haven't seen them yet here so I don't know what's happened.)**

**I hope you like it.**

* * *

><p>"I still don't understand why you agreed to this, Lisbon."<p>

Patrick Jane was stretched out on the couch (the one he had purchased for her as a matter of fact) in his boss's office, watching her add her signature on yet another form.

"I didn't agree to it," she said irritably, reaching for the next one. "The decision came from way over my head. But unlike you, I have _respect_ for my superiors and obey orders." She flicked her gaze up to meet his, sternly.

"I have respect for you," said Jane indignantly. "And I do so obey orders…sometimes."

"Right," she said, rolling her eyes. "You'll forgive me if I don't just take your word for it, given your track record."

"Meh," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "Stop living in the past Lisbon. Look forward, not backward, and let the future take care of itself."

"How very profound of you," she said, turning her attention back to her work. But of course, she only got about five seconds of peace before he spoke again.

"You're taking this a lot better than I thought you would. I was expecting you to be all moody today and needing me to cheer you up."

She scoffed. "What part of you hanging around in my office making irrelevant comments is supposed to cheer me up?"

"You know you always feel better when you get to yell at me about something," he said. "Just think, if I started behaving myself you'd have to be nice to me all day long."

"As opposed to being practically able to feel the stress induced ulcer you're giving me getting bigger and bigger, all day long," she shot back.

"So what time are we expecting our brothers-in-arms from the Big Apple?" asked Jane. Lisbon glanced at the clock on her desk.

"Plane lands in twenty minutes," she said. "They're going to check in to their hotel and then come here, so maybe an hour, hour and a half."

"They're going to be very disappointed if they come all this way and it turns out this isn't the guy they think it is," said Jane.

"Well the MO is very similar," said Lisbon reaching for their current case file. "If it's not this serial they've been chasing, it's a very thorough copycat. Either way, they can help us."

"Take over the whole case, more like," said Jane. "Just you watch, they'll burst in here all gung-ho and tell us to sign it over to them-"

"That's not going to happen," Lisbon said, cutting him off. "I can deal with a joint investigation, but I'm not going to be pushed off my own case." She blew out a sigh. "This was such a bad idea," she said. "This whole thing is nothing more than a jurisdictional pissing contest just waiting to happen."

Jane hid a smirk at these words. He'd known she was way more pissed off about this arrangement then she was letting on, and now finally, the cracks in Teresa Lisbon's poker face were beginning to show.

It had all started three days ago, on that horrible day when they had been called to not one, but three crime scenes, each victim a young woman with blonde hair and ligature marks on their necks, suggesting that they'd been strangled. It hadn't been necessary to have Jane's mental prowess to figure out that this was the work of a serial killer, and a little research had matched the style of killing and victimology to the handiwork of The Triple Killer or '3XK' last seen in New York earlier in the year.

In an effort to find out more about what exactly they were up against, Lisbon had reached out to the NYPD to see what information they could share about 3XK. She was put through to Captain Roy Montgomery of the Homicide division and as soon as he heard the reason for her call, he'd asked to speak to her superior. Before she knew it, Lisbon's simple fact finding mission turned into a bargain being struck between Montgomery and Agent Bertram that a team from the NYPD would fly out immediately to assist with the investigation.

Jane, for one, was actually quite looking forward to the arrival of their new 'teammates.' It was like he was about to take delivery of some brand-new toys. It meant new people to irritate, new secrets to uncover, new chances to point out uncomfortable truths that would make them squirm. And it would be fascinating to see how they integrated themselves in with the CBI team.

Lisbon he knew, was anticipating their coming with a lot more apprehension. He knew she was concerned about how they would all be able to work together and he also suspected that she was quite keen to make it clear to them that being in her jurisdiction, she was in charge. The control freak side of her he was sure would be in full effect until this was all over, and he looked forward to seeing how this went down with the NYPD detectives.

All in all, he thought the whole thing was going to be very interesting, and rather fun. Well, there was nothing fun about death and murder of course, but he suspected he was going to be treated to some excellent fireworks between the two teams as they tried to solve it.

And he wasn't going to do anything to inflame the situation, should one arise. He would simply sit back and let the events play out any way they would.

Well…he might be forced to intervene if it ever looked like the other team was getting the upper hand. He might enjoy drama, but if it came down to taking sides, his loyalty was to the CBI, or rather, to Lisbon.

They might disagree on many counts, and irritate each other more than anyone else on the planet, but he always hated to see her upset. She was good at hiding it, but he could always tell. He sometimes thought of himself as a studier of human character, and she was his absolute favourite subject.

"Jane?" she said, breaking into his train of thought.

"Yes dear?" he said, comfortably, chuckling as she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Don't do that," she said. "I want you to promise me that you're not going to poke and prod at them when they get here. This case must be very personal to them for them to be making all this effort, and the last thing I need is you stirring up trouble again."

"Oh relax," he said, stretching his arms over his head. "This whole thing will probably end up being just a big misunderstanding anyway."

"Until we know for sure, we have to give them the benefit of the doubt," she said, firmly. "Imagine if it was us in their shoes. If it was Red John, wouldn't you expect to be extended the same courtesy?"

He stiffened at the mention of the serial killer's name. "It'd never happen," he said. "Red John will never kill anywhere but California. He has to make sure I know he's close by so he can taunt me every time he strikes and we don't catch him."

"But what if he did?" Lisbon persisted. "What if we got a call tomorrow that someone in Texas had been cut up Red John style? What would you do?"

What would he do? He'd like to say that he'd know it couldn't really be Red John, and that he'd do nothing, but he knew that he'd want to see it for himself, hunt for clues, find any link, no matter how tenuous, that might finally allow him to track the bastard down.

"I'd be on a plane to Texas," he admitted. He'd fly clear across the country, hell, he'd fly to fricking Australia if there was even the slightest chance of getting more insight into the monster that had destroyed his whole life.

"_We_ would be on a plane to Texas," Lisbon corrected him, gently. "You think I'd let you go on your own?"

He shook his head. He had no doubt that she'd go wherever he went. But, there or not, she wouldn't be able to stop him taking his final revenge. He didn't want to hurt her, but at the end of the day, he was going to kill Red John, with or without her support. He needed to. He owed it to his family.

"I know you wouldn't," he said. Their eyes met and they exchanged a smile. A warm sensation seemed to settle at the pit of his stomach. That was what made her so special. Nobody else could make him feel like that, well at least, nobody had since Angela.

And he had to admit, even Angela hadn't had eyes as hypnotic as Lisbon's.

"So, back to the original point," Lisbon said, breaking him out of his reverie. "You have to promise me, no funny business, no rattling their cage, no stupid stunts, no practical jokes, no magic tricks, no mind-reading, no nothing. Best behaviour. Got it?"

"Aww, Lisbon," he complained. "That's no fun."

"Promise me," she repeated.

Those eyes again. She shouldn't be allowed to use them against him like this. It wasn't fair. He couldn't say no to her with her looking at him like that.

Surreptitiously, he crossed his fingers behind his back.

"I promise," he said.

She smiled at him again. "Thank you. I know you probably think I'm being overbearing, but I doubt anyone else will be able to handle you. As far as consultants go, you're pretty much one of a kind."

"Referring of course to my intelligence and charm?"

"Referring to the fact that you're a pain in the ass!" she said sharply. "I'll bet the other team don't have an annoying consultant. Must be nice to not have someone shadowing you all the time."

* * *

><p>How Beckett hated the new aviation laws that forbade the carrying of guns on planes. If hers were handy, she fancied she'd be pointing it at Castle right now, or maybe just beating him over the head with it.<p>

Either one.

Across the aisle, she could see Ryan and Esposito trying to muffle their sniggers as Castle tugged on her sleeve like an overexcited toddler.

"What?" she snapped at him, a little louder then she'd intended, causing a passing stewardess to look over at her, eyebrows raised.

"There's no need to be so aggressive," said Castle, throwing up his hands in surrender. "I was just going to ask you if you wanted some candy."

He brandished a brightly coloured tube of candy at her.

"No thanks," she said, testily. "I'm trying to watch my sugar intake. And so should you," she added, snatching it away from him. "You're hyperactive enough, and it's getting on my nerves."

"Are you sure it's me that's irritating you?" he asked. "Or the lack of legroom in this coach class seat?"

"Will you give that a rest?" she said.

"I'm just saying, if you'd accepted my generous offer you could be reclining in a nice first class seat right about now with a glass of champagne in your hand in the peace and quiet, instead of here."

As if to emphasise his point, the baby right behind her promptly began to wail.

She bit her lip to keep from answering, pulled the in-flight magazine from its pocket, opened it at random and pretended to be absorbed in an article.

Beside her, she heard him chuckle, and the scratching of his pen as he resumed writing in his notebook, presumably creating more escapades for Nikki Heat.

She had been tempted when he'd offered to spring for first class seats for the two of them, she'd be lying if she said she wasn't. But this was a trip with her whole team and it didn't feel very teamlike to go and live it up in first class while making Ryan and Esposito languish in coach.

So being a good boss, she'd opted to ride with the boys, and of course after he'd heard her decision Castle had immediately chosen to slum it too, apparently there was no question of her being separated from her shadow, even for one plane flight.

And so here they all were, wedged in like sardines, on the way to Sacramento.

She'd been shocked when Captain Montgomery had called her into his office to tell her that 3XK had resurfaced, and in California of all places. She'd always had the idea he'd come back to New York. But perhaps this was just some other way for him screw with them, by making them chase him all over the country.

Well that was fine with her. Her team had some unfinished business to settle with the serial killer and if that meant they had to rack up some air miles to do it, then so be it. Unfortunately, his change of state meant that the case had fallen into the hands of the California Bureau of Investigation, and they had been unwilling to give it up completely. So Beckett had been forced to consent to sharing the case with them.

But she wasn't too worried. Surely the CBI was just as busy as they were and had just as many, if not more, open cases. She was quietly confident she would be able to get the agent in charge to let them take 3XK off their hands. All they needed was to have a talk, cop to cop, and then the CBI could get back to chasing Californian criminals, she and her team could finally take down 3XK, and everybody could go their separate ways.

There was a pause in the scribbling beside her, and she carefully glanced over to see Castle twirling it in his fingers, apparently lost in thought. She hadn't quite been able to gauge how he was feeling about all this; after she'd first told him, he'd gone very quiet for a while, but then before she knew it, he was crowing about the free trip to California, like they were simply going on vacation rather than something more like a witch hunt.

She'd tried suggesting that he stay in New York, assured him that it wasn't essential that he accompany them, and wouldn't Alexis miss him terribly while he was gone?

But of course, he wouldn't hear of missing out and swore to her that he had Alexis's full blessing to go. In fact, by the sounds of it, the teen had been a little _too_ encouraging, and if it were anyone else, Beckett might have suspected she was planning to throw a party. But this was Alexis, and she probably was just eager to have an empty house to get some study done.

Sometimes she really couldn't believe Castle could have fathered a daughter as diligent and responsible as Alexis. He, the eternal child, and she, seventeen going on thirty. How had the traditional father/daughter roles been reversed so dramatically?

Of course, Alexis may not have been quite so quick to give her permission if her father had told her the real reason he was going. Castle had confided in Beckett that he had chosen not to tell Alexis about 3XK, he didn't want her to worry, he said, and he really felt that it was important for him to go.

Beckett understood his reasoning. After everything that had happened last time, including being kidnapped, she understood that he had a score to settle with 3XK, and she could hardly begrudge him for wanting to catch the guy. She had practically built her entire career around the same principle; finding her mother's killer. It would be hypocritical of her to forbid him to get the same closure she was so desperately seeking.

She also knew he felt a certain responsibility for the three new victims, even though it was in no way his fault. She'd tried to tell him that, but it had fallen on deaf ears, as she'd expected. She knew how that felt too.

* * *

><p>Jane had finally managed to fall back asleep on Lisbon's couch, before he was rudely awakened by a knock on the door. He cracked an eye open to see Cho standing outside of it, and shot him an angry look, but for all the notice Cho took, he might as well not have bothered.<p>

"Just got a call from the front desk," he said, addressing Lisbon. "They're here, and on their way up."

"OK, Cho. Thanks."

Cho nodded once, and left. Jane watched as Lisbon got out of her chair, smoothing her hair back and straightening her pendant.

"Stop it," he told her. "You look lovely."

She turned faintly pink. "Jane, that's sweet, but not what I was going for."

"I know, I know," he said shaking his head. "You're trying to look professional and intimidating. I get it."

"Is it working?" she asked nervously, in a rare moment of vulnerability.

"Just give them the old 'Lisbon glare.' That'll sort them out," he said, hoisting himself off the couch.

"The what?"

"You know, that look you sometimes give people, when you're really annoyed about something."

"You mean the one I'm always giving you?" she said, all trace of anxiety now gone.

"Exactly," he said, opening the door to the office for her. "Seven years working together and it still scares the hell out of me."

"If it's so scary, why is it still not enough to make you do what I say?"

He grinned at her. "I refuse to let my fear hold me back," he said.

They walked out into the bullpen to see four people, three men and a woman, exiting the elevator. Beside him, he saw Lisbon straighten up, holding her head high, as she walked forward to greet them.

He studied the group intently. The woman was flanked on either side by the three men, but they were all standing an inch or so back from her, suggesting she was the one in charge. Interesting. Lisbon was quite used to handling her male counterparts, but it wasn't often that she met another woman in a position of power like herself.

There seemed to be something different about the man who stood to the woman's immediate left. His suit was tailored, and easily looked twice as expensive as the others. His shoes were Italian leather, and he was looking around the bullpen with great interest. Jane guessed that this man was not a cop. So what was he?

Lisbon had reached them now and she extended her hand to the woman.

"Welcome to the California Bureau of Investigation," she said. "I'm Agent Teresa Lisbon."

Jane registered the use of her full title, and hid a smile. Typical Lisbon, trying to establish her authority right away.

The other woman shook her hand. "Detective Kate Beckett," she said. "NYPD."

She held Lisbon's gaze; clearly she was no stranger to control tactics, and it also helped that she towered over Lisbon in height, thought admittedly she was wearing stiletto heels.

"Nice to meet you, Detective Beckett," said Lisbon. "I'm sorry it had to be under these circumstances."

"Just 'Beckett' is fine," the other woman said, ignoring the rest of the statement. "This is my team. Kevin Ryan, Javier Esposito, and Richard Castle." She indicated each as she introduced them. Jane felt recognition register at the last name. Richard Castle. He was sure he knew that from somewhere.

Lisbon nodded briskly, and then turned away from them to her own team.

"This is Wayne Rigsby, Grace Van Pelt, Kimball Cho," she broke off as Jane came to stand beside her. "And this is Patrick Jane."

"Enchanteé," said Jane, and he couldn't resist shooting a grin at Beckett, who he realised now he was up close, was nothing short of stunning. Surely she could have easily been a model, a beautiful woman like that, but yet she'd chosen to become a cop. He made a mental note to find out why.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he said.

Predictably, Lisbon rolled her eyes, but Detective Beckett was taken aback for only a moment before regaining her composure.

"Smooth," she commented. "But you're lucky you didn't try to kiss my hand, because I'd have broken your nose."

Her three team members snickered to themselves, and even Lisbon cracked a smile.

"I consider myself duly warned," said Jane.

"Good," said Beckett.

"Sorry about him," Lisbon said, as though he was not present. "He's just a consultant."

"Don't worry about it. I've got one too," she jerked a thumb in Castle's direction. "If yours is anything like mine, I know where you're coming from."

"Thanks a lot," piped up Castle, glaring at Beckett. "I am a human being you know."

"So you keep telling me," she retorted. "I'm still waiting for the day when you actually prove it."

Castle looked slightly hurt for a moment, but grinned back at her, which she eventually returned. It appeared that this was quite a normal occurrence for them, which was unusual. The only other relationship he knew like it was between himself and Lisbon.

"Well now everyone's met, should we get down to business?" Beckett enquired.

"Good idea. Let's go to my office and figure out where we start."

"Stay here," Beckett instructed her team. "Get to know the others a little." Ryan and Esposito both nodded, but Castle's face fell.

"Come on Beckett, we always do briefings together. We're partners."

"Not this time," she said firmly. "Stay."

"Jane that goes for you too," said Lisbon. "And if you eavesdrop under the door, or pick the lock then I'll-"

"Kick my ass," Jane supplied, casually. "Got it."

The two women walked into Lisbon's office and shut the door. He noticed Castle wistfully following his partner's progress across the room, and also the way he didn't immediately look away when the door closed. Now _that_ was interesting too.

It was just as he'd hoped. Secrets and intrigue galore.

Jane smiled to himself as Grace, ever the social butterfly and peacemaker, got up from her chair and went over to Ryan and Esposito.

"Hi, I'm Grace," she said smiling shyly at them both. "It's nice to meet you." She shook hands with each of them in turn. "Come meet the others," she said and they followed her over to where Rigsby sat, and he too extended a hand to each of them.

Cho lifted his head from the book he was reading as they approached, said a quick 'Hey' and then returned to the book without further ado. The two detectives looked slightly affronted, until Van Pelt took it upon herself to explain.

"Don't mind Cho," she said. "He doesn't mean to be rude, he's just like that. Would you guys like a coffee?" she asked.

"Sure," said Esposito. "Anything will beat the crap we had on the plane, hey bro?" he said to Ryan.

"Too bad we couldn't bring Castle's espresso machine," his partner replied. "But there was no way we could pass that off as carry-on luggage."

Van Pelt smiled at them. "Break room's through here," she said. "Come with me."

* * *

><p>Castle watched as Ryan and Esposito followed the pretty redhead out the door. He noticed Esposito throwing her appreciative looks and made a mental note to threaten him with Lanie later. Not that he ever would cheat on her, but still, it'd be fun to tease him about for a while.<p>

"So, Richard Castle," the blonde guy, Patrick, with the curly hair was addressing him now. "The name rings a bell."

"I'm a novelist," he said.

"Ah," said Patrick nodding his head. "That explains it then."

"Explains what?"

"Well it's obvious to anyone that you're not a cop. The way you're dressed, even the way you carry yourself. So how did you end up working with Detective Beckett and her team?"

"I'm shadowing her as research for my books," he explained, for what felt like the millionth time. "I'm basing a character on her."

"Nikki Heat?" asked Jane.

"Yes! You've read Heat Wave?" Castle asked, thrilled at the prospect of meeting another fan, but Jane shook his head.

"No, I'm not much of a reader," he said. "Cho's read it though."

"Then how did you know Nikki was based on Beckett?"

"I've seen the cover of 'Heat Wave.' I can see the resemblance."

Castle grinned to himself, remembering the way Beckett had reacted when she'd seen the cover art for the first time, and how she'd hit the roof even worse when she'd seen the one for 'Naked Heat.'

"You know, you look familiar too," he said now, scrutinising the other man. "I think my mother used to watch your psychic show."

"There's no such things as psychics," said Jane, shortly.

"I'm sure it was your show," Castle persisted. "And I remember one time Mother and I were in Las Vegas for a play she was doing, and you were performing at the time. She used her only night off just to see you, and spent an extra hour on her hair and make-up, just in case you called her up on stage."

Jane hadn't cracked a smile during this anecdote. In fact, he looked an odd mixture of angry and sad.

"I haven't been doing that stuff for a long time," he said, politely, but with a finality that made it clear the subject was now closed.

Castle didn't press any more, but he was incredibly intrigued by this man. There was a story here; he was sure of it, and as a writer, he was deeply curious to find out how it went.

Ryan and Esposito walked back into the room, each carrying a cup of coffee, with Van Pelt, who was carrying two. She offered one to Castle and he accepted it, smiling at her.

"Not exactly café quality I'm afraid," she said. "Sorry."

"Is the other one for me?" piped up Rigsby, from across the room.

'Do I look like a barista, Wayne?" she snapped at him. "You know where it is, get it yourself."

He scowled at her, but then turned to Ryan who was closest.

"Did you say you guys have an espresso machine?"

"Yep. Castle here bought it after he started working with us. One of the perks of having him tag along."

"We should get one of those," Rigsby said, looking to Jane now. "You're always spending tons of money on stuff for Lisbon, why not use some on something we can all enjoy?"

Jane didn't answer right away; Castle fancied he was lost in thought.

"Jane? Jane!"

He snapped out of it.

"What? No, I'm not doing it, Rigsby. Coffee cart's just downstairs, that should be good enough."

"Besides you drink too much of it as it is," remarked Cho, not even looking up from his book as he turned the page.

"And so does Lisbon," added Jane. "Which reminds me, it's almost twelve. She'll be storming out here in a minute looking for her lunchtime caffeine hit. I should go take her one, otherwise we'll all be paying the price."

Castle saw him smile a little as he said this. Perhaps Patrick Jane had a little thing for his boss? The plot thickened. And now he came to think of it, Beckett would probably be hanging out for a coffee too right about now.

Before either of them could move however, everyone's attention was caught by raised voices coming from Lisbon's office.

"Agent Lisbon," he heard his partner's irritated voice say. "This case belongs to us, as does the arrest when we catch him. 3XK kidnapped two of my team members, one of whom was injured, and then he slipped through our fingers. I can't let that stand."

"I understand your motivation," Lisbon immediately shot back, "but the fact remains that this is now in CBI jurisdiction. You were invited here as a gesture of good faith, but if necessary, that invitation can and will be revoked."

"Is that some kind of threat?"

"Not at all. I have no objection to your team's remaining here in an advisory role, at least until we can establish whether this really is 3XK, but I do want to make it clear that as far as making decisions on how to proceed goes, _I'm_ calling the shots."

There was silence for a minute. Castle found he was slightly impressed at the CBI agent. Never before had he seen somebody go toe-to-toe with Beckett and hold their own so well.

He was forced to revise his first impression of Agent Lisbon. At first he'd been surprised to find out she was the head of the team, being so petite and frankly looking as small as a child next to her agents (Rigsby in particular) but he could see quite clearly now that what the woman lacked in height, she made up for in tenacity.

Just like Beckett. Oh, there were going to be fireworks before this thing was over

"This is my case," he heard Beckett say, in that icy calm voice that always meant trouble and had him running for cover. "_My_ team. _My_ suspect, who struck in my backyard. Throw me off the case if you want to, but I'm not backing down from this. This bastard hurt people I care about, and I _will_ take him out, with or without your help."

People she cared about. Castle felt an internal thrill at these words. Beckett cared about him. Of course, he'd always known that, but it was nice to hear her say it all the same. And by God, did he care about her too.

Always.

"He may have started off in your backyard," Lisbon said, calmly, but with a definite edge to her voice now. "But now he's in _mine_. Are we clear?"

_"Touche," _thought Castle to himself.

A pause. "Clear," Beckett agreed. Castle knew she hated to be forced into backing down, ooh she was going to be _pissed_. Sure enough, when the door opened, she stormed out of the office looking murderous. Members of both teams leaped out of her way as she advanced on Castle.

"I need coffee," she said, through gritted teeth. He pointed towards the breakroom and she immediately stalked off. It wasn't often he saw her so rattled; she had certainly met her match in Teresa Lisbon.

Beside him, Jane let out a long, low whistle.

"Whoa," he said. "Is she always like that?"

Castle nodded. "Pretty much." He hoped it would never change. She was so sexy when she was mad. "And Lisbon, is she always like that?"

Jane chuckled. "Oh yeah. She's a firecracker, has been since the day I met her. But it was kind of refreshing to see her yelling at someone other than me for once."

"Amen to that," said Castle, and then lowered his voice so only Jane could hear him. "Is it wrong that I found that whole fight totally hot?"

* * *

><p><strong>All the players are present and round one of the team leader's struggle for dominance goes to Lisbon, but Beckett will get her own back.<strong>

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If I end up continuing this you can expect continued friction between Lisbon & Beckett, some fluff of both the Jisbon and Caskett persuasion, some case-solving, some ass-kicking, and of course, antics from the two coolest consultants ever!**

**Please drop me a review and let me know if you think this story is worth pursuing, if not, I'd rather know now.**

**Thanks for reading.**


	2. Divide and Conquer

**Thanks for the great response to chapter one. I'm glad so many people are willing to come with me on this strange little journey, it's certainly the most ambitious story I've ever undertaken. Some might even call it 'stupid.'**

**There are a few minor references to episodes from both shows throughout this chapter. I don't know if they count as spoilers, but just in case...**

* * *

><p>Ashamed as he was to admit it, Jane too had rather enjoyed the spectacle of Lisbon and Beckett battling it out. The only way it could have been improved was if the door had been open and he'd been able to actually <em>see<em> it all unfolding, rather than just listen. But no matter, Lisbon may have gained the upper hand for now, but something told him that Detective Beckett was not one to give up easily. There'd be plenty more conflicts where that one had come from, he was sure.

And by the sounds of it, Castle was looking forward to it just as much as he was. The writer was right, there was something inherently alluring about watching two beautiful, strong women vying for supremacy.

He grinned slyly at Castle, and answered his question. "It'd be wrong not to," he said.

A grin made its way across Castle's face and the two men chuckled quietly for a moment, before Castle's cell phone rang. He dragged it out of his pocket, and his smile widened as he checked the caller ID.

"Hi, sweetheart," he said into the phone, turning away from Jane as he did so. "What's up?"

Though curious, Jane left him to it. He considered looking in on Lisbon but decided she was probably still too agitated to be very hospitable at the moment. So, with nothing else to do, he went and lay down on his couch and closed his eyes.

"What is he doing?" he heard Ryan's voice ask.

"When we don't have cases, we do paperwork… and Jane takes naps," Van Pelt answered.

"And your boss lets him get away with that?" asked Ryan, surprised. "God, if we pulled a stunt like that at work, Beckett would murder us."

"Jane tends to get away with a lot of stuff that most people wouldn't," said Van Pelt, and left it at that.

Jane heard footsteps approaching and then Castle's voice.

"OK," he was saying. "I'll call you later, honey. I love you." There was a snapping sound, presumably of his cell phone being closed. "Alexis says hi," he added, presumably to Ryan and Esposito. "And she said to tell you to make sure I get back from California in one piece. Apparently she thinks I can't handle myself."

"She's right," said Esposito, and he and Ryan laughed.

"Shut up," said Castle indignantly. "Just you wait 'till you two have kids, you'll be begging for parenting advice."

"Probably," agreed Ryan. "And then we'll call Alexis, and ask her how she handled bringing up the biggest kid of all: you."

More laughter from he and his partner, and an irritated sigh from Castle.

"You have a daughter?" asked Van Pelt, intervening before it got any further.

"Yeah," Jane could hear the pride in Castle's voice now. "She's seventeen."

"She's a smart kid," Ryan put in.

"God knows where she gets it from," said Castle. "Certainly not me, or her mother. Meredith's idea of great literature is the _Cosmo_ sealed section."

Jane worked at keeping his face impassive as everyone else laughed. So Castle had a daughter, almost the same age that his own Charlotte would have been by now if only…

He caught a few more words from Castle. "Thank God I have plenty of money in her college fund, she wants to go to Harvard, she's even mentioned Oxford, and knowing my little girl she'll get into whatever school she wants."

How Jane wished he would shut up, for all this proud father talk was making him dredge up old memories of his own daughter. He imagined what would happen had things been different. Maybe he would be standing there boasting about Charlotte like Castle did about Alexis. Perhaps she too would have been a high achiever in academia, or she might have liked sports, or dancing or singing. Maybe she would want to be a carny like he and her mother had once been, or go a different way completely and end up as something boring like an insurance broker or a lawyer somewhere.

Thanks to his own arrogance (and to Red John of course) he would never know. He had been robbed of the chance to get to know his little girl, to watch her grow up. He'd been so naïve back then. He hadn't even imagined that somebody would ever do something so cruel to another person, and all that had changed on that fateful night when his wife and his little princess were taken away from him.

He'd missed out on her first day of school, her first love, her first broken heart. Her life had been blotted out before she'd even really started living it. And Richard Castle had gotten to experience everything that he had been denied.

He wondered if Castle had ever truly considered the possible consequences of doing what he did. Just because he wasn't a true police officer didn't absolve him of the risks involved in police work. Jane knew that only too well; but luckily the most important person in _his_ life these days carried a gun. And he would make damn sure to never let his nemesis know just how much she meant to him. He'd learnt from last time. He didn't think he could stand having another death on his conscience.

He hoped Richard Castle knew what he was getting into by tangling with a serial killer. Perhaps he needed someone to open his eyes before it was too late. Nobody deserved to go through the pain of losing a child.

Should he say something? It would mean explaining his dark past, reliving things he buried deep within himself, which so far he had only managed to talk about to Lisbon, and even then, only in part. But it could also mean the difference between saving and losing another young life.

He'd never been good with these moral dilemma type things, but luckily he knew someone who was. Lisbon was the most principled, moral person he had ever met. She'd know what to do. She always did.

* * *

><p>Beckett sipped at a cup of coffee, nowhere near as good as the espresso machine at the 12th, and heaved a deep sigh. They'd only been at the CBI for half an hour and already hostilities had been opened. She knew she was setting a bad example for the whole team by engaging in a shouting match with Lisbon, for how could they all be expected to work harmoniously while their two leaders were at each other's throats?<p>

She certainly hadn't _intended_ to start an argument, she'd simply suggested the idea that she and her team take the lead, which hadn't been well received and she hadn't expected Agent Lisbon to be so damn stubborn about it. Though she couldn't claim to be entirely blameless in this, she too had dug her heels in, and the whole thing had disintegrated from there.

"Hey," a familiar voice said, somewhere over her shoulder. Castle of course; she could never get rid of him for more then a few minutes, it was like he was magnetized to her side.

"Are you OK?" he asked.

"Fine," she said, forcing a smile. He didn't smile back, merely shook his head.

"You're not fine," he said. "You're angry, you're upset, you're caffeine-deprived and a little jet-lagged."

She resented being told how she was feeling by Castle. He was right, but that was hardly the point.

"I said I'm fine," she repeated, tersely.

"Of course you are," agreed Castle but she could tell by his tone that he didn't believe her. "That was quite a show you two put on for us just now," he continued.

"I'm glad you were entertained," she said irritably, taking another sip of coffee. "This is why I hate collaborating on cases, there's too many egos involved, and everybody's so busy trying to one-up each other, we all get distracted from what we actually came for."

"To be fair," said Castle cautiously, "everyone else seems to be getting along just fine."

She glared at him, and saw him flinch.

"Look I get it," he explained hastily. "It doesn't take a genius to see what's going on here. You and Lisbon are both strong people, and when strong people meet other strong people, there's always going to be fireworks. Not to mention, you're probably both used to being unquestionably in charge, and now you've been forced to share. She can't proceed without our knowledge of 3XK, and you can't proceed without her permission because it's her jurisdiction. You two are stuck at some kind of impasse, and I can't speak for her, but I know _you_ well enough to be able to tell that annoys the crap out of you."

"If I wanted a psychological evaluation I'd go on Dr Phil," she snapped.

"It's not psychology, it's common sense," he retorted. "And you know I'm right. You won't admit it, but I am."

She said nothing, as she finished off the last of her coffee.

"You know what I think?" he went on, presumably taking her silence as agreement. "I think there's something else going on here as well. You're usually way too driven to let something like this keep you from diving right into a case. What's wrong?"

She really hated the way he could do that; make her acknowledge things that she would rather stay hidden. Most of the time, she liked the fact that he knew her so well, but in instances like this, she really, really wished he would learn to keep his mouth shut.

He was right of course, something had been bugging her about this right from the beginning, and she supposed it had only been a matter of time before he noticed something. Sometimes she kind of missed being able to hide her feelings from other people; something she hadn't been able to do since he had come along. He was just always _there_, watching and questioning and seeing things she didn't want to be seen, and knowing things she didn't want to be known.

Sometimes it drove her crazy, and other times she didn't know how she'd ever get along without him. And it was kind of comforting to know that no matter how hard she pushed him away, he'd always be back for more.

"Why did he come here?" she found herself asking Castle. This was the question that had been plaguing her ever since she'd got on the plane to Sacramento. "New York's been his hunting ground for so long, and now all of a sudden he drops everything and comes to California. It doesn't add up."

"We don't know it's 3XK yet," Castle reminded her. "It could be a coincidence, or a copycat. The papers were pretty detailed about the crime scenes, it wouldn't be exactly hard to come across the information on the internet."

"But why here?" she asked again. "And why now?"

"I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

"What do you think?"

He sighed. "Oh Beckett, I don't know."

"Well you must have an idea, you always do. Or is the best-selling crime novelist finally out of twists?"

He frowned at her, but she saw the familiar teasing twinkle in his eye.

"Number one," he said. "Richard Castle is never out of twists, and I'm offended that you would even suggest it. Number two…something did cross my mind," he admitted quietly. "But it's just a theory, and it's probably totally wrong-"

"Spare me the fake modesty," she said. "You obviously think you're right or you wouldn't have mentioned it. And I have to admit you _are_ right more often than not."

"I think you need another coffee," he said, reaching for her empty cup. "You're obviously not quite yourself, you just came dangerously close to actually"-he lowered his voice dramatically-"paying me a compliment."

"OK Mr Comedian, very funny. Come on, be serious." She reached over to move the cup away and her hand brushed against his. She tried to apologize, but for some reason the words seemed to have stuck themselves in her throat, and he didn't seem to require one anyway. In fact, he too seemed to have temporarily lost the power of speech. She wondered if he too had experienced that odd feeling of electricity passing between them.

She wanted to scream in frustration. They'd barely even touched for heaven's sake! Josh's touch had never given her this feeling, and he was her boyfriend. Something was very, very wrong here.

As quickly as the moment had come, it was gone, as if it had never been. Castle was smiling gently at her again, and she tucked her wayward hand safely into her pants pocket, ignoring the almost overwhelming instinct to grab for his hand, and never let go.

And she also should try to stop wondering what it might feel like if he were to ever touch her for real. If the hand-brush had been any indication…

No. Focus. She was supposed to be working, not fantasising. And now Castle was speaking again, she realized, and she hadn't heard a word of it. Very professional, Kate.

"-if I was writing it, I'd say he was testing us," Castle was saying, thankfully not appearing to have noticed her momentary distraction. "He's changing the circumstances. He wants to see how far he can push us, until we break."

"And what in your endless wisdom would you suggest we do about it?"

"Simple." He looked straight into her eyes. "We don't break. We've been through more together in three years than most couples do in a lifetime. We can handle anything."

"We are not a couple, Castle!"

He rolled his eyes. "Really? Out of that entire little speech, that one word was the only part that sunk in?"

"We're not a couple," she repeated. It was crucial that he understand this. He couldn't use the word 'couple' in relation to them; it could give people very dangerous ideas.

People like her, for instance.

"Fine. 'Partners' then," he amended. "We've been shot at, frozen, nearly blown up and yet we're still standing. I know we can take whatever this psychopath can throw at us. And we'll come out the other side, stronger than ever."

"Are you considering a career change as a motivational speaker?" she asked, "Because I think you should stick to murder mysteries."

He smiled ruefully. "I somehow get the feeling that you're deliberately missing the point, Detective," he said. "Now do you think you and Agent Lisbon can play nicely together now? 3XK or not, we have a killer to catch."

"I'll do my best," she said, and the two of them began to walk back towards the bullpen.

"Hey Castle?" she said, after a while.

"Yeah?"

"I got the point."

* * *

><p>Meanwhile, across the office, Patrick Jane was standing outside Lisbon's door, holding a cup of tea in one hand and a coffee in the other. Castle had long since left the bullpen to check on Beckett, and the others had all decided to take an early lunch, since none of them had anything to do.<p>

As they were all heading out, Cho had told Jane to "call when they were done with couple's therapy, and ready to get on with some actual work," and Ryan had added that he might want to tell Castle the same thing. He agreed to pass on the message, but first things first.

Lisbon had been shut up in her office for the best part of forty-five minutes and if he left her alone in there to brood any longer, he knew she'd be especially moody when she did come out. And she'd be wanting her coffee by now too, so he'd brought it as a peace offering.

"Lisbon?"

"Go away, Jane," she said. "I'm busy."

"I've got coffee," he said, coaxingly. "If you want it, you'll have to let me in."

Silence for a minute, then the sound of her footsteps, and the door was opened.

"Give it to me," she said, holding out her hand.

Jane pulled it away from her, careful not to spill any. "Manners, Lisbon," he said.

She heaved a deep sigh. "Give it to me, _please_," she said, in the kind of long-suffering voice a person might use when talking to a particularly stubborn toddler.

"That's better," he said, handing it to her. She glared at him, and without saying anything else, walked back inside.

Any other person would have interpreted that as a clear dismissal, but as far as Jane was concerned, if she'd really wanted him to leave her alone, she'd have shut the door behind her. On a subconscious level at least, she must want his company.

And more to the point, whether she wanted it or not, he was going in.

"So are you planning on hiding out in here all day?" he asked her, as he followed her in and settled himself on her couch. She didn't even bother to look surprised, just annoyed, as she lifted her gaze to meet his.

"I'm not hiding," she said, with what he supposed she considered to be great dignity.

"Sure you're not," he said, with a grin. "Just like she's 'not hiding' in the breakroom right now."

"Is she?' asked Lisbon, with a bad attempt at nonchalance.

"Mm-hmm," he said. "Just like you."

"I'm nothing like her," she said, angrily. "She's stubborn, and pushy, and impossible, and she doesn't know when to back down."

"Any of that sound familiar?" he asked. Lisbon was silent. "Face it," he said. "She's basically you in stiletto heels. That's why you're clashing so much."

"Who wears shoes like that for police work anyway?" she said. "Totally impractical."

Jane took a sip of tea in order to keep from smiling, and redirecting her ire onto himself. She flipped open the case file, and began to scan it.

Teasing her been a welcome respite from the war going on inside his head about whether he should say anything to Castle, but now all those thoughts were back with a vengeance. He really didn't know what he should do, and he had to ask her.

"Lisbon, I need your advice about something."

"If it's for some grand plan, the advice is the same as every time," she said. "Don't do it." She chuckled to herself.

"No, seriously," he said. Something in his tone of voice must have surprised her, because she looked up from the file, without a trace of humour.

"What is it?" she asked.

"What if, hypothetically, you had some information that might be beneficial to someone else, but in order to make them understand, you had to tell them about something that you never, ever talk about. Would you do it?"

"If you want my help, you're going to have to give me more than that," she said.

He sighed. Part of him wanted to tell her just to forget it, but he knew that now he'd brought it up, she'd keep at him, and at him until he eventually told her. It was a particularly irritating habit of hers, but he also had to admit, it had it's uses. He wanted to keep her out of as much of his dirty dealings as possible, but sometimes there was a problem that was just too big for him to handle on his own, like the time he'd hired Donny Culpepper to steal something from LaRoche's house, and the idiot had gotten caught.

He'd spent that entire weekend trying to fix things until eventually, Lisbon had forced it out of him. But as soon as he'd told her she'd made it go away, just like that. It seemed like she was _always_ making things go away, bailing him out of whatever messes he got himself into.

He really shouldn't be putting any more of his problems on her shoulders, but at the same time, it was kind of nice to know she always had his back. He hoped one day, he'd be able to return the favour.

"Tell me the truth, Jane," she said.

"Castle has a daughter," he said. "She's about the same age mine would have been if…you know. He's chasing a serial killer, just like I was when my family was taken from me. I can't help but draw certain parallels between his situation and mine. But if I warn him off it, he's going to want to know why, and I don't talk about her, ever, at least not to anyone but you."

"What would you have done if someone had said something to you?" she asked after a pause. "Would it have stopped you?"

Jane thought back, though he had a hard time remembering himself pre-Red John these days. It felt like a lifetime ago. He remembered being arrogant, feeling invincible, laughing off Angela's pleas to stop his psychic act. And when the local cops had asked him to help track down Red John, the serial killer they were chasing, he'd thought of nothing but the extra exposure it would generate, the new clientele, the mounds of extra cash that he would be able to make.

He'd come home from his first day of consulting for the Malibu police, to find Angela in tears on the couch. The moment he'd walked in the door, she'd thrown her arms around him and begged him to reconsider, that it was too dangerous, they didn't need the money, how she wouldn't be able to bear it if something happened to him.

He remembered kissing the top of her head, and telling her that she was worrying about nothing, everything would be fine. He promised her that when the case was solved, he'd arrange for them all to go on a nice long vacation to Paris, because she'd always wanted to go.

Exactly two weeks after that, he'd come home to the smiley face on the wall and the bodies of his wife and child on the floor.

Yes, he had fancied himself untouchable, but it had never occurred to him that others he loved might have to pay the ultimate price in his stead. If somebody had told him that, well things might have turned out very differently.

"I don't know," he answered her finally. "But nobody else should have to go through what I went through. No parent should have to bury their child."

She left her desk and came to sit next to him on the couch.

"I can't tell you what to do about Castle," she said. "That's your call. But you have got to stop blaming yourself for what happened to your family."

"I can't." How could he? It was all his fault. He should have listened to Angela, and kept his goddamn mouth shut. It had been a hell of a way to learn about the value of silence.

"Well can you at least try?" she asked. She shifted a little closer to him on the couch, and he could feel her gaze boring into the side of his head. "The Red John case is killing you, and it's killing _me_ to see it happen."

He turned his head so his eyes met hers.

"I wouldn't blame you if you cut and run."

"Too late," she said, ruefully. "I'm in too deep now. I'm always going to save you, Jane, whether you like it or not."

He couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as she said that. Memories of the two of them in a locked box, his proposal that they draw straws to figure out who got to eat who first, her refusal to 'draw straws with a professional cheat,' how beautiful she had looked when the sunlight fell on her hair…

"That's plagiarism," he said. "You can't use my own words against me like that. I'll sue."

"Good luck finding a lawyer who'll take that case," she said. They smiled at each other, and he noticed that somewhere during their talk, one or both of them had shifted so their legs were now touching. He had no desire to correct this; her presence was comforting.

There was a brief knock on the door, and Cho came in.

"Not interrupting anything am I?" he asked.

"No," they said in unison.

Cho raised an eyebrow.

"Everyone's back from lunch now," he said to Lisbon. "Ready to get started?"

"Absolutely," she said, getting up.

Jane followed her back out into the bullpen where everyone was waiting. He noticed she avoided Beckett's eye.

"OK people," she said, and everyone stopped talking at once. "I know we've had some delays this morning"-there were several snickers, which she quelled with a steely glare- "but we have a killer to catch. Let's get to work."

* * *

><p><strong>Real case development will happen soon I promise, I just couldn't resist giving my two favourite couples a 'moment' before getting down to the important stuff.<strong>


	3. Working Out the Kinks

**I know it's been a while since I updated but I've had a visit from the writer's block fairy. She cast her terrible spell, and I've been unable to write for weeks, so I'm sorry for that.**

**Thanks to everyone who's reviewed and alerted and favourited. You guys keep me going. **

**Disclaimer. Nothing recognisable is mine.**

**Hope you like it!**

* * *

><p>Lisbon cleared her throat. "For the benefit of our new team members, let's go ahead and recap what we know so far." She gestured to a whiteboard behind her. Beckett was struck at the similarity to her own murder board back home. She'd figured a state agency would have access to more funds than the NYPD, and had hence been expecting smart boards and the kind of high-tech gadgets the FBI had brought in during the Scott Dunn case.<p>

But no, here was Agent Lisbon with a plain old whiteboard and marker 'kicking it old school' as Castle had once put it. It was the first time she'd felt any kind of commonality with the other woman. It was a small thing, admittedly, but it was better than nothing.

Leaning on a desk just to her right, she heard Castle let out a sigh of disappointment, and had to hide a smirk. She knew that he'd been dying to see what fancy equipment they had at the CBI.

"Four days ago," Lisbon went on. 'Three victims. Evelyn Johnston, 29, Rebecca Van Keil, 22, and Sylvia Hartnett, 24." As she named each woman, she tapped her photograph attached to the whiteboard. "Each was found in a different location with ligature marks on the necks. The coroner's report found that the same weapon was most likely used in all three murders, but they won't know for sure until we provide them with a sample they can match. No fingerprints or hair or any other fibres were found at any of the scenes."

"Well that makes sense," said Castle. "He's way too careful for that. These aren't just random acts of violence; he prepares for them, and plans everything. If we ever do find physical evidence at a 3XK crime scene, it'll only be because he wants us to."

"We don't know for sure that it's your serial killer yet," said Lisbon, patiently. "Let's try not to jump to conclusions until we have all the facts. We've interviewed all the victim's families and so far we haven't been able to find any common link between them so for now, we can only surmise that our killer chooses his targets purely by their hair colour."

"Wrong," Castle cut in again, seemingly unable to stop himself. "This goes way deeper then something like hair colour."

"Well so far, we don't have any evidence to support that theory," said Lisbon, with a certain hardness to her tone now. "So we have to go with what we've got for now."

"Actually Lisbon, I've been thinking the same thing," piped up Jane, earning himself a furious glare from his boss and a grin from Castle. "The blonde hair is simply the trigger. There's a much deeper, underlying anger here."

Castle nodded his agreement. "That fits 3XK," he said. "I was treated to the displeasure of his company for a little while, and take it from me, he has serious mother issues."

Beckett bit her lip to keep from smiling as Lisbon rolled her eyes in exasperation. Beckett could see the other agent trying her best to rein in her temper

"And you didn't think to point this out earlier?" Lisbon addressed her consultant, in irritation.

"I thought about it, but it just never seemed like the right time," he said, deflecting the question. "But I do think Castle's right, and we should pursue the serial killer angle. No stone unturned and everything."

"And if Mr Castle is wrong?" asked Lisbon, sounding strained.

"He isn't," said Jane, confidently. "But if you're hesitant about trusting his judgement, trust mine. When am _I_ ever wrong?"

Beckett had always thought this kind of arrogance was a trait unique to Castle. Clearly, she'd been wrong. Patrick Jane certainly had little if any, doubt in his own abilities. And bucketloads of charm and swagger to help carry it off, if the glowing smile he shot at Lisbon was any indication.

Beckett was impressed against her will however, to see that Lisbon was unmoved.

"Well, aren't you two just the perfect pair?" said Lisbon, spitefully, looking from one man to the other.

"I like the way he thinks," said Jane. "You cops are always so linear. You need people like us to help you think outside the square."

"Thanks man," said Castle. "Beckett never gives me the appreciation I deserve."

"I'm sorry that you're feeling neglected," said Beckett sarcastically. "How about I just revoke my permission to have you follow me around, and stop turning up to get you out of whatever catastrophes you create for yourself? How's _that_ for appreciation?"

"If we could return to the briefing," Lisbon cut in before Castle could retort. "And Jane, not one more word until I'm finished, is that clear?"

He said nothing.

"I said, is that clear?" she repeated.

"I'm sorry Lisbon," he said, smirking. "But by not answering I was simply abiding by your wishes. So you really have no cause to be angry with me."

She rolled her eyes. "Wanna bet?" she said.

Lisbon's annoyance with her consultant was clear to Beckett. Apparently Jane was just as wayward as Castle on a bad day. God only knew what kind of an influence they would be on each other, over the coming days. "When we've exhausted all other avenues, then we'll look at the serial killer thing," Lisbon said, firmly. "For now I want to reinterview everybody we've talked to so far."

"That would be a complete waste of time," Beckett spoke up. "We need to treat this as a 3XK case."

Lisbon blew out a sigh.

"What makes you say that?" she asked, with an extremely forced politeness, that was not lost on Beckett, nor on Castle and Jane who were smirking at each other now like a pair of Cheshire cats.

"I know his style," Beckett said. "I know what to look for. And if anything doesn't match up we'll know it's not really him a hell of a lot faster than if we leave it as a last resort."

"But it already doesn't match up," said Lisbon, barely keeping her voice under control. "It happened here instead of New York, that's a pretty big change to his MO."

"Agent Lisbon, do you not know the basic psychology of a serial killer?" Beckett asked, now beginning to become a little fractious herself. "They want to challenge us, so they keep on escalating and changing until they're caught. Have you never dealt with one before?"

Instantly, the atmosphere in the bullpen changed, as though it had dropped about ten degrees in temperature. Rigsby, Van Pelt, and Cho, all of whom had been smiling slightly as the two women argued, sobered immediately, and Lisbon cast an anxious glance at Jane, his wide grin also having disappeared.

Castle and Beckett exchanged confused looks, as a prickly silence descended upon them all, and a quick glance at Ryan and Esposito showed they were just as mystified. She looked at Lisbon again, whose gaze was still fixed on her consultant's, and Beckett got the impression that there was an entire conversation taking place between them without the necessity of words.

Clearly, something big was going on here that she and her team weren't privy to, and she found she was slightly annoyed about it. They were all supposed to be working together after all, and having secrets within a team was never a good idea.

"Well?" she prompted them, after a minute passed without anyone saying anything. "Have you?"

* * *

><p>It was lucky Lisbon's mind was so consumed with concern for Jane, as it prevented her from going over and smacking Beckett one. But she was still more than capable of coming up with several curse words to describe her current feelings towards the NYPD detective.<p>

Not only had this woman tried to take her case away from her, she now had the audacity to imply that she was some kind of expert on serial killers. According to the report that she'd been given by the NYPD, Beckett and her team had been chasing this 3XK character for six months, at the most. They were only at the beginning of the road; they had no idea what might lie in store for them.

For seven years, Jane, Lisbon and the others had been hunting down Red John. For seven years, he'd been constantly lurking at the backs of their minds, making them wonder what he'd do next, and if the end would ever come. For seven years, Red John had haunted Jane's every step, and she had watched him be pulled further and further into the darkness, powerless to stop it.

Seven years of pain, and anger and misery. Too many times when Jane had simply fallen off the radar in pursuit of a clue, and her stomach twisted itself in knots with the sheer terror of not knowing if he'd ever come home again.

Red John was a presence in their lives, always waiting to loom out of the background and shake things up again. And every time he did, he took a piece of Jane with him, which in turn took its toll on her. Even worse, she never knew the right thing to say, or how she could help him.

People always described serial killer cases as 'career-makers,' but there was nothing glamorous about year upon year of fruitless searching, your mentor being viciously murdered right under your nose, and watching your best friend in the entire world descend into near-madness with the stress of it all.

She doubted that Kate Beckett was ready for that. All this time, and _she_ still wasn't handling it. There were still days when she sometimes thought she'd crumble under all the pressure, and she could only imagine what it was like for Jane.

"Trust me," she said to Beckett. "We've had our fair share."

"Really?" said Castle, sounding intrigued. "Well maybe we should all compare notes to figure out what to do next."

"No." Lisbon said, very firmly.

"Come on," Castle said, coaxingly. "In the spirit of teamwork, and companionship…"

"I said no," she repeated, just as adamantly. "I can assure you Mr Castle, it has nothing to do with our case, so lets just leave it, shall we?"

"Castle's right," spoke up Beckett. "We all need to be on the same page here. Something is going on that you're not telling us about, and I don't appreciate being stonewalled."

Lisbon could understand her position. Hell, if she were in Beckett's stilettos she'd be just as pissed off at being kept out of the loop. But this was not her secret to tell. She didn't have the right to reveal this terrible part of Jane's past.

Jane had put his trust in her, and she knew better than anyone that he didn't trust easily. It was her duty as his friend to respect that.

"This isn't getting us anywhere as far as closing this case goes," she said. "All we're doing is wasting time and we don't have much of the day left. And I'd like to feel that we've at least done something productive today." She quickly glanced at her watch. "If we split up, we should have time to visit each of the victim's families." She looked up at Beckett. "Are you guys going to come with us or not?"

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes later found Beckett sitting grumpily next to Castle in the backseat of the CBI's Suburban as they, Lisbon, and Jane headed for a meeting with Derek Van Keil, the husband of the second victim. Rigsby and Ryan were meeting with Sylvia Hartnett's parents, while Cho, Esposito, and Van Pelt went to see Evelyn Johnston's boyfriend. Lisbon had insisted on the mixture of team members, so there'd be no accusations of subterfuge on either side.<p>

Beckett always hated meeting victim's families, because it reminded her every time that she had been on their side of this; trying to come to terms with the loss of a loved one.

She always had to force herself to pick up the phone or knock on the door on such occasions, hating that she had to be the bearer of such tragic news. She didn't think she'd ever get used to it, but if she ever did, that was the day she'd be leaving the force.

Fortunately, that part had already been taken care of by the CBI, but still she was apprehensive all the same. It always made it harder when you put faces to names. Harsh as it sounded, it was easier to cope with the grieving family when she considered them as an anonymous, faceless entity, rather then always seeing the husband's eyes filled with pain, or hearing the wails of a newly motherless child in the back of her mind.

She'd been that child once. Still was, if she were honest with herself.

Castle, at her side as always, caught her eye and shot her an encouraging sort of smile. He knew how hard this was for her; in fact, he was one of the only people she had ever told the specifics of what had happened on that fateful night.

She had been hesitant to reveal something so personal to him, for fear it might become raw material for a Nikki Heat plotline, and the worst period of her life would become common knowledge among Castle's extensive readership. But her fears had been unfounded. She'd been wrong about him.

In the beginning, she'd resented having him foisted on her, imposing himself on every aspect of her life with advice she never asked for and quips and jokes that were nearly always totally inappropriate. Now, she felt lucky to have him. Sure, he was still full of unsolicited 'advice' and inappropriate jokes, but somewhere along the road, they'd become endearing as well as annoying.

And now, faced with the prospect of dealing with the hardheaded Agent Lisbon for the immediate future, she needed the distraction of his child-like humour more than ever.

"So," Castle said now, presumably to break the tense silence. "How long have you guys been together?"

"We're not," said Agent Lisbon, immediately.

He chuckled. "I meant professionally."

"I don't know," said Jane, thoughtfully. "Feels like forever now. Six, seven years maybe…what do you think Lisbon?"

"Seven years, four months, one week and five days," she recited, without hesitation.

"Wow," Castle commented, impressed by both the long duration of their partnership and the exactness of Agent Lisbon's memory.

"Aw Lisbon," said Jane, grinning at her from the passenger seat. "You remember when we met down to the day? I'm touched."

"Yes, well you tend to remember the day you practically sign your own career death warrant," she said, putting on the indicator and beginning to move into the right-hand lane.

"Nobody made you sign on with me."

"You know why I did. You help close cases, and besides, nobody else would have been stupid enough to sign on with you."

"And of course, there was the second reason," said Jane. "You know, the one you were going to tell me when we were locked in that box, but then the kid with the goat turned up?"

"Locked in a box?" repeated Castle.

"Don't ask," said Lisbon.

"Don't need to," he said. "We've lived it."

As long as she lived, Beckett knew she would never forget the terror of those hours spent trapped in the freezer, with their time running out, their temperatures forever dropping, and knowing that help wasn't coming.

She remembered clinging to Castle as the hypothermia began to set in, and the icicles began to form on their eyelashes, and wondering if this was really it for them. She vaguely remembered their conversation just before she passed out.

"Castle, thank you for being there."

"Always."

"I just want you to know how much I-"

To this day, she wasn't really sure what she had been about to say, before she succumbed. But she did know it would have changed both their lives forever. Perhaps it was divine intervention that had caused her to lose consciousness at that precise moment. To stop her from doing something she would later regret.

Thank God for Ryan and Esposito. It was thanks to them that they'd been found. And Josh too, she supposed, though things between them had never been quite the same since he'd found her there, huddled in Richard Castle's arms.

Especially since that when she was with Josh now, she was always kind of wishing it was Castle instead.

"So how did you two come about anyway?" Jane asked, breaking into her train of thought. "Cop and writer partnership. It's kind of an odd combination."

"No weirder than a cop and a psychic," replied Castle.

"True," Jane allowed. "But I'm not a psychic. There are no such things as psychics."

"So what is it that you actually do then?" asked Beckett curiously.

"You mean other than generate more paperwork than I could possibly finish in a lifetime, hiding out in the attic, and pissing people off left, right, and centre?" Lisbon interjected, angrily.

"Hush, Lisbon," said Jane, smiling gently at her. "Eyes on the road." She made a face at him, but obeyed, and then he turned back to Beckett.

"I'm a mentalist," he said. "Mind-reader, human lie-detector, master observer, whatever you want to call it."

"Arrogant, conceited, rude," pitched in Lisbon again. Jane ignored her.

"You can read minds?" asked Beckett, skeptically. "Yeah, right."

"I can prove it to you, if you like," said Jane. "Would you like me to demonstrate?"

"No," said Beckett and Lisbon, in unison.

"Yes!" exclaimed Castle, eagerly.

Beckett hid a smile. Of course Castle would love the idea of a mind-reading demonstration, given his fascination with all things supernatural and occult.

"Sorry ladies," he said. "But I just can't resist a captive audience. If Detective Beckett will consent to be my subject…" He shot her a glowing smile, and she was ashamed to admit, she melted just a little bit. But she wasn't about to let him see that.

"Fine," she said, making sure to keep her face straight as the car glided to a stop at a red light.

"Great!" Jane said. "This one here is a personal favourite of Lisbon's." He winked at his partner, who flushed slightly, and then turned away from him. "Now Detective, I want you to imagine a screen between you and me, and on that screen I want you to project a basic shape. Like a square, but not a square…"

* * *

><p>Ten minutes later, Lisbon parked the car at the kerb outside Derek Van Keil's house. She had to admit, she had experienced a slight feeling of satisfaction when Beckett had fallen victim to Jane's mind-trick, just like she had done two years ago. Another victory for him and the stupid triangle inside the stupid circle.<p>

Castle had been mightily impressed, and the writer spent the rest of the journey peppering Jane with questions about suggestion and hypnotism, saying it would make for a good supporting character for one of his books. Lisbon sincerely hoped that idea _never_ came to fruition; the last thing she needed was Jane to have yet another boost to his already-oversized ego.

But on the other hand, it was nice to see Jane hit it off with someone for once. She knew he was lonely, that she and the team were the only friends (practically family, even) that he had, and anything that brought him a step closer to normal life was something she definitely encouraged. It was strange to her that she and Beckett were having so much trouble getting along, and yet he and Castle had got on like a house on fire since this morning. Usually the situation was the quite the reverse, he was the one making enemies all over the place, and she would be running along behind trying to smooth all the ruffled feathers.

So far, he'd seemed to have found a kindred spirit in Castle. She only hoped it would last, it would be good for him to have at least one friend outside the CBI.

"All right guys," she said turning the engine off. "That's enough clowning around, we're here."

She understood the need for humour and lightheartedness in their lives; they had a tough job, but now it was time to get serious.

They all got out of the car, and then she knocked on the door. Derek Van Keil opened it, a tall man, with short brown hair and light brown eyes.

"Agent Lisbon," he said in surprise. "What are you doing here? Is it something to do with Becky?"

"We just have a couple more questions for you, Mr Van Keil," she said. "You remember Patrick Jane? And this is Detective Kate Beckett, and Richard Castle. They're consulting on the case."

"Hi," he said, dispassionately. "I don't know what else I can help you with Agent Lisbon. I've already told you everything I know. But come in, anyway."

They were shown into the living room, and offered refreshment, which they all declined, except for Jane, who requested a cup of tea. As they waited for Van Keil to return, Lisbon noticed her consultant's eyes flicking around the room as usual, and noticed Castle doing much the same thing. After a minute, both of their gazes came to rest on the mantelpiece, which housed a collection of photos.

'No wedding picture," said Jane, quietly. "That's odd."

"Maybe it's somewhere else," said Lisbon.

"No," said Castle. "It should be here, this is the focal point of the house. Every woman likes to show off their wedding picture to their friends."

"You were married," said Jane, taking in Castle's ringless finger. "And more than once, I'd guess."

Castle grinned. "Twice. But I learned my lesson. No more weddings until the right woman comes along."

"Any luck finding her yet?" asked Jane.

"Still searching, but I can tell you one thing. She's going to be extraordinary." He glanced at Beckett, who steadfastly avoided meeting his gaze.

Jane caught Lisbon's eye, and winked. It was clear to them both that Castle had a serious case of the hots for his partner. She could practically see Jane doing cartwheels in his mind at the fun he could have with the hapless pair before this case was over. She almost felt sorry for them; they wouldn't know what had hit them.

Luckily, before he could open his mouth and embarrass them all, Van Keil returned with the tea. He handed it to Jane, who took a sip and Lisbon was pleased to see that he refrained from making a face. No doubt, the tea wasn't even close to being to his satisfaction, she knew how picky he was about it.

"The papers said that it might have been some kind of serial killer who killed Becky," said Van Keil, sounding distressed. "Is that true?"

"We're looking into all the possibilities," said Lisbon, in the classic cop way of answering the question without giving away any real information. "But I really need you to think; is there any reason anybody would want to hurt your wife?"

"No."

"No problems at work? With her friends?"

"No."

"And the two of you? No problems there?"

"No!" he said angrily. "I told you all this last time. Becky was a sweet, warm, wonderful person. Everybody liked her. Why are you here asking me these stupid-ass questions when you should be out there finding out who did this to her?"

"This is how a murder investigation works, Mr Van Keil," spoke up Beckett. "We just have to keep asking questions until we get the right answers. And sometimes that takes a little while."

His anger seemed to subside, and when he spoke again, sounded far calmer. "You're right. I'm sorry," he said. "I know you're just doing your job. It's just frustrating knowing that bastard is still walking around out there."

"I know it is," said Beckett. "But by talking to us, you're doing the best you can to help find them."

"I know. Thank you."

Lisbon had to hand it to Detective Beckett. She'd handled that well. She was impressed, however reluctantly. Her pride told her to keep questioning, but her common sense told her that perhaps the other woman should take the lead on this one. She'd certainly done a better job at creating rapport.

"Sorry," Castle spoke up. "I don't mean to interrupt, but would you mind if I used your bathroom, sir?"

Beckett rolled her eyes, but Van Keil nodded.

"Sure. Up the hall, second door on the right."

Castle disappeared up the hall, and Beckett turned to Mr Van Keil once.

"OK sir," she said. "I'd like you to walk me through what happened the day before your wife was killed."

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes later, the agent, detective, and consultants rose to take their leave. While the other three left, Jane stayed behind to hand his half-full cup to Mr Van Keil.<p>

"Thanks," he said. "And we're very sorry for your loss."

"Yours too, Mr Jane."

"Excuse me?"

"Last time you were here, your name rang a bell. So I Googled you," said Van Keil, apologetically. "I read about what happened to your wife and daughter. I'm so sorry."

Jane didn't answer. He really didn't feel like being questioned about his family, not now, and not ever. He hated it when victim's families knew about his past; it always led to awkward questions. He hated being asked how he dealt with it, how he'd managed to move on, because the truth was, he hadn't. He put on a brave face, but he'd never really moved on after losing Angela and Charlotte, and to be quite honest, didn't think he ever would. He didn't like it when people seemed to see him as kind of role model of triumph over adversity, when nothing could be further from the truth.

"How do you get over it?" asked Van Keil now.

Jane considered his answer. There were so many ways to respond to that question, but the only one that felt right to him was the truth.

"You don't," he said.

He got back outside to see them all waiting for him in the SUV. He climbed into the passenger seat beside Lisbon. Her green eyes filled with concern as he pulled the door shut behind him.

"Are you OK?" she asked him quietly, so that Castle and Beckett wouldn't hear. "What happened?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" she pressed. "You don't seem fine."

He resisted the urge to shout at her to just stop with the questions already and leave him alone. He knew she was only trying to help, and that unlike most people, she truly did care whether or not he was OK.

Sometimes he really wished she wouldn't care so much for him. The more she cared, the more he'd hurt her in the end. He didn't want that. She deserved to be happy, and carefree, not to have to shoulder the burden of his screwed-up life.

He smiled at her, reassuringly. "Lisbon, stop worrying. I'm OK. I promise."

She didn't look totally convinced, but let the subject go, turning the key in the ignition.

"Hey Jane," Castle spoke up from the back. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I highly doubt it," said Jane, because why would Castle possibly be thinking about how beautiful Lisbon's eyes were, and how much Jane wished they would look at nobody but him from this point on?

"Really?" said Castle, sounding surprised. "I kind of thought we were thinking the same thing about Van Keil."

With difficulty, Jane forced his mind off Lisbon, and back onto the case.

"Oh right, you mean about their marriage being in trouble," he said. "Yes, I agree."

"What?" said Lisbon.

"How do you figure that?" asked Beckett.

"Oh, it was painfully obvious," said Jane, airily. "The lack of wedding picture on the mantelpiece, the way he snapped at you, Lisbon when you asked about their relationship…"

"The absence of any girl stuff in the bathroom or his bedroom," Castle picked up the thread. "I didn't go in!" he said, as Beckett glared at him. "The door was open, I just took a quick peek."

"Sure it was," she muttered sarcastically.

"Not to mention the ridiculous overacting he was doing about his wife," concluded Jane. "He was trying to look very sad about it when in fact, he cares very little. My supposition is that they've been separated for quite some time."

"OK," said Lisbon, from the driver's seat. "So where does that lead us?"

"May not lead us anywhere," said Jane, calmly. "But it's a loose end, another piece of the puzzle. Definitely worth checking into."

"See ladies?" Castle said joyfully. "This is why you keep us around. We can see the things that you don't."

"Yes, but is it worth the stress of having you guys around all the time, just for breakthroughs on the case?" asked Lisbon. "I'm not so sure about Jane."

"Liar," he said, comfortably.

"What do you think?" Lisbon asked Beckett, the first time she'd spoken to her directly since their disagreement during the briefing this morning.

"Jury's still out," said the detective. "I'll let you know."

Lisbon focused on the road again, and Beckett reached for her cell phone, which had just chirped the arrival of a text message.

Castle and Jane caught each other's eye, and smirked. So their ladies had finally made some progress. Well, they'd spoken to each other, without the use of threats or raised voices, at least.

It was a start.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm actually pretty happy with the way this chapter turned out. I had fun writing it, and I hope you liked it too. <strong>


	4. Behind Enemy Lines

**The only good thing about spending three days sick in bed is that it gave me plenty of time to write this chapter. If there are any mistakes, at least some of it must be attributed to the medicine.**

**That being said, I'm very pleased with it, and I hope you'll enjoy it too.**

**Disclaimer: If you recognise it, it ain't mine.**

* * *

><p>By the time they were halfway back to CBI, Beckett had received numerous more text messages, with such frequency so as to leave Castle in no doubt of whom was on the other end.<p>

"Motorcycle Boy's got a lot to say today," he remarked, keeping his voice even with great effort. There was just something about Josh that had always gotten under his skin, from his stupid floppy hair, to the annoying way he always seemed to interrupt whenever he managed to snatch a moment alone with Beckett.

"How many times have I asked you not to call him that?" said Beckett, in annoyance.

"Sorry, sorry," said Castle sarcastically. "_Doctor_ Motorcycle Boy, then."

From the front seat, Jane let out a chuckle, and Lisbon shushed him.

"Wouldn't it be easier for him just to call you and get all those LOL's, x's, and o's, out of the way in person?" Castle asked Beckett. "Or shouldn't he be doing his hero doctor thing and fixing someone's broken heart?"

"Not that it's any of your business, but it's his day off," said Beckett. "We were supposed to spend the day together, until this case came up."

Was it wrong that at these words, Castle was inherently grateful that they'd all flown clear across the country, if it meant he wouldn't have to set eyes on Beckett's boyfriend for a while?

He'd never actively do anything to try and split them up, but that didn't mean he didn't pray to God and whatever other deities might be listening every night, that the relationship would fall apart. And he of course, being a good friend would be there for her to help pick up the pieces. Josh, the Motorcycle-Riding Moron had never deserved her anyway. All the time that could be spared from his work should be spent treating Beckett like a queen, rather than zooming round the city on that infernal contraption of his.

He hated the fact that she'd settled for dating someone who seemed to regard her at number #230 on his list of priorities. Yes, he understood the man was busy, but he should really try harder. She was worth it.

Another text message arrived.

"What does he want now?" he asked as she opened it. "To regale you with the thrilling tales of double bypass surgery?"

"It's Esposito," snapped Beckett. There was a snort from the front seat, and then Lisbon shushed her partner once more, a little more forcefully this time.

"He says they're all back, and waiting for us. How far away are we?" she asked.

"Tell him we'll be there in ten," said Lisbon.

* * *

><p>Jane couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed a car trip that much. The conversation going on in the backseat had been so much more interesting than what Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt talked about on the way to crime scenes. Well, to be fair, Cho usually didn't do much talking, preferring to read, or just look out the window in silence.<p>

When they arrived back, Lisbon sent Castle and Beckett in ahead, and requested that Jane stay behind. He thought he knew what this was about.

"I know what you're about to say," he said, before she could open her mouth. "You're about to tell me not to mess with Castle and Beckett."

She shook her head. "Actually, I'm not," she said.

"You're not?" he repeated, genuinely thrown.

"No," she said. "I'm not going to tell you not to mess with them. I don't need to, because you already promised me you wouldn't. _Right_?" she added, pointedly.

Darn. He had promised, hadn't he? But he'd had his fingers crossed after all, which therefore nullified the promise. Wasn't his fault that she didn't know that. She should have been more observant.

"Actually, I just wanted to check on you," she said. "What did Van Keil say to you?"

Not this again. He'd thought he'd put on a fairly convincing display of cheer and easiness on the way back. Apparently not, as she'd evidently seen right through it.

"I told you, nothing," he said. "I thanked him for the tea, he took the cup back, end of conversation."

"Don't lie to me, Jane," she said, exasperatedly. "I know you are. I let you get away with it in the car because the others were there-"

"-I'm not lying to you!" he broke in.

"Oh yes, you are. And we both know it. As your supervising agent, I order you to tell me!"

"You really thought that was the best approach? Seeing as I'm so good at following orders."

"Don't make me go to LaRoche," she said.

"And why would you do that?"

"I'm sure he'd be very interested in hearing about your past before you came to us. Generally, people who've had to undertake psychiatric treatment aren't permitted to work with the police."

Jane kept his face impassive with effort, as his heart sank. She wouldn't really do that to him, would she? He had trusted her, and _only_ her, with the information about his stay in the mental facility; surely she wouldn't just throw it back in his face? She had to know what a wrench it had been for him to tell her about it, and only someone truly cruel could ever think to use it against him. It couldn't be true. Lisbon had a good heart. She was compassionate, and just. If he couldn't depend on Lisbon, he couldn't depend on anyone.

But he'd certainly let her take the hits enough times over the years. Everyone reached their breaking point eventually, perhaps now she had finally had enough.

"You wouldn't," he retorted, automatically, but even as he said it, the truth of it sunk in. She wouldn't. She hadn't defended him all these years just to throw him to the wolves now. What would be the point of that?

He hadn't registered the odd clutching sensation at his heart at the thought that she might betray him, until now, as it lifted.

"Very clever," he went on. "You almost had me there."

"I'm serious," she said.

Ah yes, there it was, the slight flicker of panic in her eyes that always appeared when she was under pressure.

"You're bluffing," he said, trying to sound confident, she must never know what a scare she'd given him just then.

For a moment there, he'd thought it might be all over, their partnership, their friendship, everything. He would have still worked to bring down Red John of course, and he was determined to achieve it, but he didn't want to think about how much harder it would be without Lisbon.

"Fine," she said, annoyed that he'd called her out. "As your friend then. You can't keep shutting me out Jane," she said. "When has that ever turned out well? Talk to me."

There it was again, sticking her nose into his business, wanting to know everything. Why wouldn't she just understand that there were things she was better off not knowing?

And he couldn't even be mad at her for it. If anyone else had been so nosy about his life, he'd have put them in their place good and proper. But not Lisbon.

"Van Keil asked about my family," he said, reluctantly. "He recognised my name when we went there the first time, and Googled me."

"What did he say?"

"Wanted to know how I 'got over it'. As if it was the same as getting over a cold, or a breakup or something." If he hadn't already known that the Van Keil's marriage was in jeopardy, that would have tipped Jane off. The total lack of emotion in his voice spoke volumes.

"And what did you tell him?"

"The truth."

She placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she said sympathetically. "I know you hate talking about it."

"It's not just that," he said. "I hate the way a total stranger can find out my whole life story at the click of a button, and then use it to blindside me whenever they want."

She squeezed his shoulder once, it was a pleasant feeling, and then she let it go.

"It's all my fault," he said. "If I hadn't been so hungry for fame, I wouldn't have been as well-known, and the Malibu police would have never asked for my help, so I never would have done that goddamn talk show-"

"That's true," she said, cutting him off. "But if you weren't as well-known, you also wouldn't have got the job at the CBI. The Malibu P.D mentioned you in a case we were all working, and Minelli recognised your name, checked you out, and eventually, brought you here to work with us. So there're some good things to being well-known."

He'd never thought about it that way before. Given the choice, if he could change the past and have his family back, he'd do it in a heartbeat, no questions asked. But given the reality, he'd known for years, it had been a lucky day for him when he'd met Lisbon.

And now he learned that the celebrity status he hated so much had actually helped to bring them together. It had taken away Angela and Charlotte, but it had also given him Lisbon.

It was almost enough to make him feel slightly less guilty. Almost, but not quite.

"Come on," he said to her now. "Let's get upstairs, everyone's waiting for us."

"Sure," she said, and hid a smile as he opened the door for her.

"Oh and by the way," he said as she walked through it. "Thanks."

* * *

><p>"What is taking so long?" Beckett asked the three CBI agents, peering at her watch. Jane and Lisbon had been gone for nearly ten minutes now. Surely, their conversation could wait until later. There was work to be done.<p>

"I could call her cell if you like," said Van Pelt, always eager to please.

Rigsby said nothing; mostly due to the large sandwich he was eating, but also a little nervous about getting the lady cop offside. Ryan had told him all about Beckett's quick temper and he for one, was not about to test her to see if it were true.

Cho glanced up from the book he was reading. "They'll be back in a minute," he said. "Relax."

Beckett turned her ire to the Asian agent. "Relax?" she said, incredulously. "Perhaps you hadn't noticed Agent Cho, but we are in the middle of a triple-homicide investigation, and time is of the essence."

"I had noticed," Cho said flatly, turning the page. "And so does Lisbon, and if she's not up here working it, there's a damn good reason why."

"Which is?"

"No idea. And I wouldn't tell you if I did. I answer to Agent Lisbon, not to you." He then returned to his novel.

Beckett's jaw dropped. Ryan and Esposito both grabbed for the sandwiches Rigsby had fixed for them and stuffed them in their mouths to keep from laughing, now with a newfound respect for Agent Cho.

Castle however was torn between laughing, and wanting to take a swing at him for his rudeness. Though on reflection, the latter idea probably wasn't the wisest plan, the man had arms as thick as tree trunks.

Luckily, the elevator pinged, and their MIA team members stepped out of it before any punches could be thrown.

"Sorry about that," said Lisbon, all business. "Let's get to it."

* * *

><p>The rest of the evening passed quickly, with new leads to chase up, and alibis to corroborate. By about seven, both of the team leaders acknowledged that it was time to call it quits for the night.<p>

There was a general stampede for the elevator. Castle hung back, waiting for Beckett who was gathering up papers.

"Leave that," he said. "Let's go back to the hotel and have a very stiff drink."

"You go," she said. "I'll meet you there later. Right now, I need to have a word with Agent Lisbon."

"And by 'word' you mean 'catfight' right?" said Castle, eagerly. "Oh come on, you have to let me stay and watch. Please?"

"Don't be an idiot. There'll be no catfighting, just two professionals having a civilised conversation."

"Liar," he said. "You two can barely look each other in the eye, let alone talk to each other…Oooh, you know what would be great? A girl-on-girl smackdown!"

"You know, you're lucky you never had sisters," she said. "You never would have survived past the age of twelve."

"Probably," he agreed. "Just do me a favour though, will you? If it looks like it's going to get physical, call out 'apples' OK?"

"Yeah, right."

"Well I'd tell you to use _your_ safe word but I don't know what it is."

"Oh you never know Castle," she said, teasingly. "Play your cards right and maybe one day you might."

His whole face lit up. "You mean that?" he said.

"Sure," said Beckett, with a sly grin. "Remind me when hell freezes over; and I'll tell you then."

His face fell again. "You're mean," he said. "Cruel, you are."

She smirked at him, and then tapped on Lisbon's office door.

"Yeah?" came the answer, and she went inside. She was surprised to see Jane lying across a couch in the office, apparently asleep.

"We need to talk Agent Lisbon," she said.

"Sure," Lisbon put down the pen in her hand.

"I meant privately," she said, gesturing to Jane.

"Don't mind me," he said, evidently _not_ asleep and listening to every word. "Pretend I'm not here."

"Or we could not pretend, and you can just leave," said Beckett.

"But-"

"Jane, you heard the woman. Take a hike," Lisbon said.

Letting out a long sigh at the dreadful inconvenience she was causing him, Jane pulled himself up from the couch and left the office. "On my couch if you need me," he said, as the door swung shut behind him.

"Wow," said Beckett. "I think that's the first time you've exercised any control over him all day."

"Excuse me?"

"I can tell you, if I had my own office, I sure as hell wouldn't be letting Castle camp out in there all day."

"Jane kind of comes in and out when he feels like it," said Lisbon. "And at least when he's in here I know where he is and what he's doing, and that he's not off wreaking havoc somewhere."

"Do you always give him so much free rein?"

Lisbon glared at Beckett. "That's easy for you to say," she said. "Spend a day in my shoes, and then you can judge. I don't have the advantage of threatening to break off the partnership like you do. I'm stuck with him whether I like it or not. Now, is there something you want to talk about, or are you just here to complain about my consultant?"

"Having Castle for a partner is no picnic either," said Beckett. "You're not the only one with personnel problems. But that's not what I want to discuss."

"OK," said Lisbon. "Take a seat."

Beckett pulled out the chair across from Lisbon's. "I want to know what took you and Jane so long to get back upstairs after we got back from Van Keil's. Is there something going on I should know about?"

"No."

"You expect me to believe that? Because if you two don't have some kind of secret to talk about, I don't see why you couldn't discuss it up here with everyone else."

"That particular matter was between me and my consultant," said Lisbon.

"Look, we're supposed to be a team. Concealing things from one another isn't going to get us anywhere, and quite frankly, I think it's unprofessional."

"If it had any relevance to the case, then I'd tell you," said Lisbon, calmly, reaching for some paperwork.

"Well you see, the thing is Agent Lisbon, I'm not so sure you would. Something your Agent Cho said today got me thinking."

Lisbon chuckled. "Is that what this is about? I know Cho can come off a little… brash at times, but he doesn't do it to give offence. He just calls things like he sees them. What did he say?"

"He said, he answers to you, not to me."

This statement didn't have the desired effect on Lisbon, who simply picked up the pen again and started dashing off some signatures.

"Well of course he'd say that," Lisbon said. "He's on my team."

"Which is exactly my point!" said Beckett irritably. "We're all supposed to be a combined force on this case. We have to stop thinking of the others as either 'yours' or 'mine' and start thinking of them as 'ours.' You and I are equals. They need to accept our authority, no matter which one of us gives it."

Lisbon's eyes narrowed. "Are you accusing my people of being unprofessional?" she asked.

Apparently Beckett had struck a nerve. Lisbon, it seemed, would not have her team criticized. Beckett had to admit they had that in common.

There was a lengthy pause.

"Fine," said Lisbon, icily. "Tomorrow morning I'll remind my people to follow your orders as if they were mine. Satisfied?"

"Yes," she shot back, just as coldly. "And I'll do the same."

"Fine," said Lisbon again. "Was there anything else?"

"No, that's all," said Beckett, rising from the chair. "We'll meet back here tomorrow early, agreed? We're already a day behind."

"Looking forward to it," said Lisbon, derisively. "Oh and if you see Jane, tell him to go home, will you? I know he's hovering around somewhere."

"Sure," Beckett agreed, forcing herself to be polite. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

* * *

><p>Beckett left the office, fuming. What was it about Agent Lisbon that invariably made her so angry?<p>

Castle popped up from a desk chair, he'd obviously been waiting for her to come out.

"I'm a little disappointed," he said. "No scratching or hair-pulling, not even a raised voice."

"Shut up," she said. "Still wanna go get that drink?"

"Absolutely."

They walked through the bullpen, eventually coming upon Jane who was dozing on the couch.

"Hello Detective Beckett," he said, without opening his eyes. "Castle. Where are you guys off to?"

"How'd you know it was us?" Castle asked.

"Probably heard us talking," Beckett said, not in the mood for the two men to get into another discussion about mentalism. All she wanted was a drink, a shower, and to go to bed. In that order. "By the way," she added. "Lisbon said to tell you to go home. Looks like she's staying back late tonight."

"Just for a change," said Jane to himself, hoisting himself off the couch. "Most nights I'd go in anyway, but I bet she's even grouchier than usual after your little chat, Detective."

"Hey!" snapped Castle, springing immediately to his partner's defence.

"What?" said Jane. "You're just as irritated with her as she must be with you, Detective Beckett. She has been known to be a _little_ on the stubborn side sometimes." He smiled. "So, where are you headed now?" he asked again. "Going to sample the Sacramento nightlife?"

"Hardly," said Beckett. "Just back to the hotel for a drink, and then an early night."

"Mind if I tag along? My plans for tonight just fell through."

Castle and Beckett exchanged glances. She really didn't want Jane coming along with them while she was trying to unwind and relax. She imagined him sitting there with them, watching and listening, and forming all kinds of opinions.

To be honest, she was looking forward to the time alone with Castle. It had been a tough day, emotions were strained, and he always seemed to find a way to cheer her up. She needed her best friend right now, and to be able to talk to him without feeling she had to guard herself.

As she looked for a way to politely word her response, for the first time, she noticed a wedding band on his left hand. Strange. He hadn't mentioned a family.

"Shouldn't you be getting home to your wife?" she asked.

Jane flinched, seemingly taken aback by the question. Instantly, he shoved his hand in his pocket, hiding the ring from view.

"No," he said, would-be casually. "Free and easy, that's me."

She wondered if she were imagining the sadness in his voice as he said that. Maybe this had something to do with the secrecy between he and Lisbon today. It was clear that Lisbon indulged him more than anyone else; perhaps her affection for him was the key to improving _her_ relationship with the other agent.

In any case, it wouldn't hurt to try.

* * *

><p>"Oh my God!' They'd taken no more than three steps into the hotel bar when a young woman with long blonde hair, and a scoop neck top showing off copious cleavage, bustled up to the group. "Are you Richard Castle?" she asked.<p>

He beamed at her. "I sure am," he said. "What can I do for you?"

"I'm a huge fan," she gushed. "Would you mind terribly coming over and signing a few autographs for me and my friends? We'd all be so grateful."

Castle glanced at Beckett, who shrugged. "Go on," she said. "Do your thing, and come find us when you're ready."

"Thanks," he said, allowing the blonde girl to seize him by the hand, and start tugging him away to the other side of the room. "It won't take long."

Jane chuckled to himself. "I take it that's not an uncommon occurrence, Detective Beckett."

"Lifestyles of the rich and famous, eh?" she said, claiming a barstool and ordering a beer each for herself and Castle.

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," said Jane, requesting an iced water from the bartender.

Beckett took a long pull from her beer. "Castle told me you had a TV show a few years back, you must have been recognised in public a lot."

"Yes, I did for a while. It got very tiresome."

Beckett looked surprised. "Really? A show-off like you? No offence," she added, a little late.

"None taken," he smiled.

"Castle loves the fans and accolades and attention. He can't get enough of it." They both looked across the room to where Castle stood surrounded by women, clearly in his element, signing whatever was put down (or pulled out) in front of him. "Is that why you stopped doing it?" she asked. "Because you got sick of the fame?"

Jane took a sip of his drink. "I learned an unfortunate truth of the world, the hard way," he said. "The higher you go, the further you fall."

Beckett didn't know quite what to make of this statement. Patrick Jane was a mysterious man. Everything he said was cryptic, like a riddle.

"So what about you?" Jane asked her, after a moment. "You must come in for your fair share of attention, being Nikki Heat and all."

She groaned. "I am _not_ Nikki Heat," she said, forcefully. "She is a fictional character."

"But she _is_ based on you," Jane pointed out. "There must be some similarities."

"Pretty much everything in that book is just his crazy imagination."

Jane shrugged. "Perhaps," he said. "But it's easy to see why he chose you as the subject to model Nikki on."

"It is?"

"Sure," he said. "You're intelligent, hard-working, and determined, but at the same time empathetic to the plights of others. If I had to bet, I'd say you were bordering on being a bit of a workaholic too, and your patience a little short occasionally, but mostly because you want to get the job done, " he recited. "I can tell all that already, and I've only known you a day. I'll bet Castle sees all that and more. You obviously fascinate him, and if I may, I'm sure the way you look doesn't hurt either."

Beckett flushed at the idea that Castle might truly think of her that way. She knew he tended to feel things deeply, and many times over the years they had been working together, they'd had these kinds of conversations.

"You don't miss much, do you Mr Jane?" she asked.

"They pay me to be observant," he said. "And I can also see great pain in you. Some kind of deep emotional trauma, that shook you to the core, and that's shaped your life ever since."

She considered denying it, but what would be the point? She remembered when she and Castle had a conversation very like this one the first day they'd met, when he was a suspect in a murder case. Was she really that easy to read?

"My mother was murdered," she said, slowly.

That was enough. He didn't need to know anything else. She wasn't going to tell a near-stranger the whole terrible tale of the way she'd spent hour after hour going through her mother's file when she'd first joined the force. How she'd eventually given up, and shoved it to the back of her mind. How Castle had come along, and opened the whole thing up again even though she'd ordered him not to. How it had nearly cost them their partnership. How she had eventually tracked down the man who'd killed her mother, only to find that he was just the tip of the iceberg, and how she'd been forced to shoot him before he could give her any answers.

Ever since she'd learned her mother's death had been a contract kill, she'd been looking for the people who had given Dick Coonan his orders, but with every person she talked to, it raised more questions than answers, and they all told her the same thing. This was bigger than she realised, she'd never understand. But she needed to understand. She needed to know _why_.

"I'm sorry," said Jane. There was a pause. "I know what it's like."

She searched his eyes. So many times over the years people had said things to her like 'they knew how she must be feeling' but nobody could really, truly get it unless they'd experienced the same thing. She saw the misery in him. If she had to decide, she would say that Patrick Jane was one of those unlucky few.

"What happened?" she asked. "If you don't mind me asking."

He sighed. "Lisbon didn't tell you," he said, a statement, not a question.

"Tell me what?"

He let out a small, humourless chuckle, shaking his head.

"I made an enemy of an evil man," he said, twisting his wedding ring around his finger. "He thought I needed to be taught a lesson, so he came to my house one night, and he killed my wife and daughter."

"I'm so sorry," she said, because she couldn't think of anything else to say. She could only imagine the kind of guilt he must carry with him every day, feeling responsible for the loss of his family.

He nodded. "I don't talk about it," he said.

"Neither do I," she said.

There was an uncomfortable silence; broken when Jane called the bartender over to refresh his iced water. Something had been gnawing at Beckett through that entire period of quiet, and now it had been broken, she had to ask.

"I'm sorry," she said. "But why did you ask if Lisbon had told me?"

The corner of his mouth twitched, into what was almost the beginning of a smile.

"I assume that when you went to talk to her before we left, you were asking why we didn't come upstairs right away earlier?"

"Yes."

"And what did she say?"

"Nothing," said Beckett. "She just said it was between you two, and didn't have anything to do with the case."

"So she pretty much told you to stay out of it," Jane summarised.

"Not in those exact words," said Beckett. "But yes, that was the basic gist of it."

"Over the years, Lisbon has kind of designated herself as my protector," said Jane. "She's been bailing me out of trouble as long as I've known her. But I thought this time might be different. It really turned her around when you guys were brought in on this case."

"Really?" said Beckett, doubtfully.

"She's good at hiding it," Jane said. "I've never met anyone as good at repressing their emotions, but I know her well enough to see it anyway. She comes off as aggressive around you, in particular, because she's uncomfortable. She's not used to dealing with someone like you, a smart, and competent woman, and she's unsure about how to proceed."

He paused, and then continued. "Van Keil asked me about my family as we were leaving the house today. That's what we were talking about, and when you went to see her earlier, I thought she might tell you about it to try and get you to lay off her, but I suppose I underestimated how stubborn, and loyal, she is. Again." This time, a small smile appeared on his face.

There was a shriek from the opposite side of the room, and both of them glanced over to see Castle trapped in a tight embrace from two of his fangirls as another took a cellphone picture.

"You're very much like her you know," Jane said.

"Castle said the same thing," said Beckett irritably.

"He's right. And if you're _half_ as stubborn as she is, I'm sure you'll have many more disagreements before we get this thing finished."

"That's it? You're not going to tell me to back off a little?" That was where she'd thought the conversation had been heading.

Jane chuckled, genuine laughter now. "No," he said. "If you and Lisbon want to dislike each other and be at each other's throats all day, that's your business. Not to mention, it's incredibly entertaining."

"So you don't care at all?"

"Of course I care," he said. "She's my best friend."

"Is that all she is?" asked Beckett, shrewdly. In her experience, 'friends' didn't talk about each other quite as warmly as Jane was about Lisbon at the moment.

The smile disappeared.

"Lisbon and I have never, and will never, be anything more than what we are now," he said. "I'll make sure of it."

"Right." That hadn't really answered the question, but she was reluctant to press him any more.

"And what about you and Castle?" he said. "There's clearly more than platonic feelings going on there, at least on his end." She looked alarmed. "Oh come on, he's practically got a neon sign floating above his head."

To avoid meeting his gaze, she began to peel the label off her beer bottle.

"I have a boyfriend," she said.

"Proving what?" said Jane, unimpressed by this argument.

"I don't know," she said. "Castle's my best friend…it's complicated."

"Whatever," he said. "But you'll have to deal with it sooner or later."

"So will you," she retorted.

Jane smiled a little once more. "Well, aren't we a pair of screw-ups?" he said.

She chuckled. "Someone should really throw a telethon for us."

Jane noticed her empty bottle. "Another?" he asked.

"I really shouldn't. We have work tomorrow."

"Just one more," he said, coaxingly. "I suspect you can hold your liquor quite well, much better than that pretty face of yours would suggest. I'll even buy for you. I insist." The smile morphed into a real one, and there was a kind of sparkle in his eye that hadn't been there before. He really was handsome, if you were into blondes, she supposed.

"Well, aren't you the charmer?" she said, rolling her eyes.

"Try telling Lisbon that," said Jane. "She just calls it 'irritating.' And trust me, you ain't seen nothing yet."

* * *

><p>Finally, Castle escaped the manicured clutches of his fan club. It wasn't that he didn't like his fans, he truly did, he appreciated the part they had played in making him a success, and he accepted he had a duty to them, but he was tired, and still a little jet-lagged and he knew that there was a beer calling his name right now.<p>

He looked around for his two companions, and eventually spotted them at the bar on the far side of the room. He made his way towards them.

* * *

><p>"So, how long?" asked Beckett.<p>

"What?"

"How long have you had feelings for Agent Lisbon?"

Jane put down his water glass. "Why would you ask me that?"

She shrugged. "I figured nobody had asked you outright before, and that someone should. Isn't this what people normally do in bars, confess their deepest, darkest secrets to complete strangers?"

"What's it going to achieve?"

"Probably nothing, but it might make you feel better to say it out loud. And who better than me? I can keep a secret, and in a week or two I'll be going back to New York and you'll never see me again. Now come on Jane, answer the question."

Ice cubes rattled in the glass as he picked it up and swilled it around, playing for time.

"Consciously?" he said. "Maybe a year or so. Subconsciously, I think I probably fell for her the moment I first met her."

"Feel better?" she asked.

"Not even slightly. In fact, I think that just made it worse. You're the worst drinking mate ever."

"Or am I the best drinking mate ever?" she said. "I made you face up to the unspoken truth after all. That should count for something."

"No, you're definitely the worst."

She shrugged. "I can live with that."

* * *

><p>Castle wondered exactly what the other two had talked about while he had been gone. In fact he wouldn't have been surprised if they'd sat in absolute silence the whole time. Clearly they had nothing in common, he with his mind-tricks and mentalism, and she with her no-nonsense ways of doing things. And needless to say, they were in opposing camps as far as the whole Beckett v. Lisbon situation went.<p>

No doubt, it had been all kinds of awkward. And now, with him about to join in the mix, it would only be worse. He and Beckett would probably end up just talking to each other, as usual, leaving Jane out of the loop completely. But no matter, he'd elected to come along, nobody had forced him.

As he approached them, he was surprised to see them, rather than ignoring each other as he'd expected, relaxed and laughing at something. Was he simply imagining the way they leaned towards each other very slightly when they spoke to each other? Or how when they reached for their drinks, their hands passed within a quarter of an inch?

It seemed he need not have worried about them getting along, if the way they beamed at each other now was any indication. They seemed to be getting along quite well, _very_ well for two people who had only met this morning, and were totally indifferent to one another an hour ago.

If she weren't already taken, and he had any claim over her at all, the scene he was witnessing now _might_ have made Richard Castle a little jealous.

Suddenly, Doctor Motorcycle Boy was the least of his worries.

* * *

><p><strong>OK, before you all lynch me, allow me to just say the last bit is more of an indication of what Castle <em>thinks<em> he's seeing, rather than what's really going on. I swear I ship Caskett and Jisbon and if the relationship between Jane and Beckett progresses any further, it will be a friendship only. Just their partners may not see it that way.**

**Sorry this one is longer than the others. I got a little carried away with the Jane/Beckett conversation. It was challenging to write, but fun.**

**I'm doing my best to give all four of the main characters an equal share of the limelight but it's not easy. I know Castle seems to be out of the thick of things at the moment, but he will get a big chunk of the action next chapter.**

**I'm sorry too if the Jisbon/ Caskett balance is a little lopsided. I've had a lot more practice at writing Jisbon, and with Caskett I'm still kind of finding my feet.**


	5. Taking Chances

**This one took forever I know, and I'm sorry. Three weeks between chapters is a disgraceful effort from me.**

**This chapter is not my best work, I admit, but I figured putting up something was better then nothing.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing recognisable is mine. Any names of establishments or businesses that pop up in this story are figments of my imagination and any similarity to real stuff is coincidental.**

* * *

><p>Unsurprisingly, Lisbon was the first to arrive back at the CBI the next morning. She'd slept badly. They'd only been at it one day, and already this 'shared case' nonsense was stressing her out. Obviously, the old saying about 'too many cooks in the kitchen' applied quite nicely to cops as well.<p>

The team was still settling in to the presence of four new people in the bullpen, and she herself was still trying to come to terms with sharing the reins with Detective Beckett. She was trying, she really was, but the woman just seemed to make it extremely difficult to be nice to her. Of course, Detective Beckett would probably say the same about her, if she were asked.

She'd ended up staying late at the office last night, mostly just because she craved a bit of peace and quiet. Not that she couldn't have those things at home, but this way she could get some work done as well, thereby killing two birds with one stone.

She'd been a little surprised when Jane hadn't stayed behind too. Even though she'd asked Beckett to tell him to leave, she'd still half-expected him to come wandering in as usual and settle himself on the couch. But he hadn't, and when she herself had headed out an hour later, he was nowhere to be seen.

Whatever. She was his boss, not his girlfriend, how he spent his evenings was none of her concern.

She'd been in her office only a few minutes when the elevator pinged again and Beckett stepped out of it, accompanied by Castle, Ryan, and Esposito. The three men immediately shot off to the breakroom for coffee, while Beckett strode up to the desk she'd been allocated for the duration of the case, removed her bright red coat, and slung it across the back of the chair.

Another ping from the elevator heralded the arrival of Cho, who ignored Beckett completely as he made a beeline for his desk. He caught Lisbon's eye through the office window and nodded a greeting, before opening up a copy of the case file and beginning to peruse it.

Soon, the rest of the NYPD contingent returned from the break room, each with a cup of coffee, or two, in Castle's case, one of which he handed to Beckett, who smiled at him as she accepted it, apparently this was some kind of routine.

"Thanks Castle," she said. He looked at her as if expecting her to say something else, but she turned away, taking a sip.

The elevator doors opened once more, and this time it was Jane who alighted from it and walked into the bullpen.

"Hey guys," he said breezily, to the room at large. "Good morning Detective Beckett." He grinned at the woman, who rolled her eyes, but smiled back. "Feeling all right after last night?" he enquired.

"Just fine," she said. "And yourself? You were hitting the iced water pretty hard there. That's strong stuff," she said sarcastically. "How are you holding up?" she added, with mock-concern.

Jane chuckled. "Never better, Detective."

Something had changed between Beckett and Jane. Lisbon couldn't put her finger on why, but they seemed to be relating to one another better this morning, with a relaxed, friendly air that certainly hadn't been there yesterday.

If that weren't enough, by the sounds of it, they'd spent yesterday evening together as well. (When did they come to that arrangement? Why wasn't she told about it? And, more to the point, why wasn't _she_ asked?) That explained his absence from her couch last night at least; he'd apparently been off roaming about town with another woman.

It seemed that for all Detective Beckett's sarcasm and apparent professionalism, her consultant had still managed to cast his spell over her. Though she supposed she shouldn't have been _that_ surprised; it was a truth universally acknowledged that the ladies loved Patrick Jane.

It was all a means to an end she was sure, part of some master plan of Jane's, that he might let her in on in due course. Jane didn't often do things just for the sake of it; there was usually an ulterior motive if she looked hard enough.

But what if there wasn't this time? The beginnings of doubt were taking hold in her mind. What if this was exactly what it looked like?

They'd make a very photogenic couple, she thought, Detective Beckett, statuesque and stunning, and Jane, who wouldn't have looked out of place in the pages of any high-end fashion magazine. They'd be the kind of couple who turned heads as they walked down the street. She had to admit, it wasn't totally impossible that they would be attracted to each other.

No. He wouldn't. There was just no way. As long as she had known him, Jane's devotion to his departed wife had never once wavered; it would take more than just some pretty New York cop to change that. She'd seen him knock back many women over the years, why would he stop now?

Of course, none of the others looked like they'd just stepped off the catwalk at Fashion Week, but that wasn't the point.

But they were still looking at each other, smiling at each other, and unless she was very much mistaken, she'd swear she saw him wink at Beckett too.

"Lisbon in yet?" she heard Jane ask, finally tearing his gaze from the detective.

"Office," Cho said.

"Thanks," said Jane. "I'll be back soon, Detective. Try not to miss me too much."

"I can assure you, I won't," came the reply.

Chuckling to himself, Jane walked into her office without knocking as usual, and beamed at her.

"Good morning, Lisbon," he greeted her, cheerfully.

"Morning," she said, a lot less sunnily. Jane of course, noticed her bad mood at once.

"You seem irritated about something, and you can't be mad at me, because I've only just got here and haven't done anything yet. What's going on?"

"I could ask you the same question." The words spilled out before she could stop them. "Why are you and Beckett so friendly all of a sudden?"

She didn't like that knowing gleam in his eye, and she imagined him putting all the pieces together in his mind.

"We got to know each other," said Jane. "The two of us and Castle all went out for a drink last night. Castle got caught up with some fans, so Detective Beckett and I ended up having a nice, long talk."

"About what?" asked Lisbon, incredulously. "You don't have anything in common."

"Sure we do," said Jane. "We're two intelligent people in the same line of work. We had plenty to talk about. Besides, I like her. She's fiery and she isn't afraid to say what she thinks. I don't see any reason why the two of us can't be friends," he concluded simply.

It sounded so reasonable when he put it that way, thought Lisbon. Jane had a way of always explaining the method to his madness in a way that sounded so logical that it made her question herself. It was something she'd always hated about him; the way he could make her doubt herself, even when she _knew_ she was right.

"Well, that's good," she said. "I'm happy for you."

Jane rolled his eyes. "I know you're lying through your teeth right now," he said. "But you could at least _try_ to sound convincing. Do you have a problem with me being friends with Beckett?"

She couldn't believe they were actually having this conversation. This was the kind of stuff you'd expect to hear from children, not two full-grown adults, law enforcement professionals no less. And as for whether she disapproved of his new friendship, the honest answer was 'yes.' He was her consultant, her friend, and here he was flirting with the enemy. She'd kind of been counting on him being on her side.

Yes, it was ridiculous, and immature. Yes, in her head she knew there were no sides; they were a single unit on this. But ultimately, a person's true loyalty could only lie with one person. Yesterday, Cho had put his stance beyond doubt. Castle too was spoken for. He was so enraptured by Beckett there was to be no question of his devotion to her, professional and otherwise.

Castle had mentioned yesterday that he and Beckett had been working together for three years. She and Jane had been partners for twice that length of time, but hadn't seemed to have developed such a close bond as the writer and his muse. They seemed to think along much the same lines, have similar ideas, had even finished each other sentences at times. But more than anything, what Lisbon had observed between them yesterday was mutual respect. They saw value in each other's ideas, and they listened to each other, even when they bickered. In three years, Castle had Beckett had evidently reached a level of trust and solidarity that she and Jane had yet to achieve, and possibly never would.

She had stuck by her consultant through thick and thin, through their victories and losses, day after day. She'd known going in that this arrangement was going to be hard work, and she'd accepted that, but after all these years she would have hoped for at least a little reciprocation on his part. She didn't ask for much, even something as small as letting her in on his latest gambit rather than 'protecting' her by keeping her out of the loop would have been enough. Something, _anything_ to reassure her that their partnership was worth fighting for.

She couldn't help but envy Castle and Beckett a little. They had a _real_ partnership; the kind where they knew the other would have their back under any circumstance. If Jane didn't care enough for her to give her his support over something as minor as this, God only knew what might happen when the chips were really down.

"Of course not," she answered him, finally. "It's good you're getting along. Makes things easier."

He smirked. "Spoken like a true boss," he said. "But put the professionalism aside for just one moment, and answer me as my friend, not my boss."

"I don't have a problem with it," she said. "I'm just…surprised."

The smirk widened into a full-blown grin. "And maybe a little jealous too?" he suggested.

The pen she'd been holding dropped onto the desk with a clattering sound.

"I am not jealous," she said. Really, for him to even suggest such a thing was absurd, and unprofessional, and frankly insulting, and she fully intended to tell him so, but he got in first.

"You don't have to pretend Lisbon," he said. "I can see it. Things have been very different around here since they came, it's natural that you would feel threatened."

She glared at him.

"You really have no reason to be insecure," he continued; in that infuriatingly calm voice that made her sincerely want to throw something at him. "Detective Beckett is great, but you'll always be my best girl."

That was it. Lisbon put up with a lot of crap where Patrick Jane was concerned, but she was not going to sit here and allow him to patronize her like this in her own office.

"Get out," she said, with as much authority as possible, given her voice was shaking with anger and indignation.

"Obviously this is distressing you, we need to talk about this," he said.

"Out!" she repeated. "Now!"

"OK, OK," he said, raising his hands before him in surrender. "I'm leaving. You do seem a little touchy about this. Perhaps I struck a nerve."

Lisbon snatched up the pen on her desk and lobbed it at him, but most unluckily he seemed to have expected some form of attack and was out the door as quick as lightning, so the pen simply bounced pointlessly off the frame and onto the floor.

Sometimes she didn't know why she bothered with the arrogant bastard at all. Detective Beckett was welcome to him, and good luck to her. If she wanted to take Patrick Jane off her hands, then that was just fine with Lisbon.

She had a sudden vision of her consultant and the detective walking into the bullpen together hand-in-hand, and instantly a sensation not dissimilar to nausea began to take hold in her stomach.

Perhaps she'd eaten something she shouldn't have this morning, or the milk in her coffee had been off, because what else would explain this sudden, unexplained sickness?

One thing she knew for sure was that it was not jealousy. Because she wasn't jealous, never had been and never would be. She had no opinion about Jane's romantic entanglements whatsoever.

Right?

* * *

><p>"Nice work, Romeo."<p>

Jane was fixing himself a cup of tea when Detective Beckett sidled up behind him, with a small smile on her lips.

"You heard that?" he asked, dunking the teabag in his cup.

"Enough to get the gist of it," said Beckett. "I have to say, for such a good-looking guy, you're not so great with women. I'll give you a tip. Infuriating us isn't the best way to go. We don't like it."

"Aw Detective, you think I'm good looking?" he asked, with a wide grin as he tossed the used teabag into the trash.

She rolled her eyes. "Another tip, fishing for compliments is a real turn-off."

"As much as I appreciate these invaluable insights into the female psyche, Detective, I'll have you know that conversation went exactly the way I wanted it to."

"She kicked you out of her office."

He nodded. "Yes, she's probably in there seething right now, hating my guts," he said, with obvious satisfaction.

Beckett looked confused. "You _want_ her to hate you?" she asked. She lowered her voice. "Don't people who have feelings for somebody usually want to encourage the opposite emotion?"

"Sure, if there were any chance for us to be together." He took a sip of the tea now, grateful that there was nobody else about to overhear their conversation. "Call it an insurance policy. She's the best thing that's happened to me since my wife. The least I can do is to make sure that when I screw things up; it will cause her as little pain as possible. And if that means being a huge pain in the ass every day, then so be it."

"And if you don't screw things up?" asked Beckett.

He laughed scornfully. "Oh Kate," he said. "You obviously don't know me very well."

At some point while they'd been talking, they had gained an audience. He sensed someone's gaze on them, and when he looked around, spotted Castle across the room, with his eyes fixed on them and frowning.

"Is Castle always this possessive of you?" he asked Beckett, casually, taking another sip. "Right now he looks as if he'd like to come over and punch me."

* * *

><p>Castle watched as his muse and Patrick Jane continued their conversation in hushed tones, heads close together. It looked almost intimate, he thought mournfully.<p>

Clearly, fate was telling him that he and Beckett just weren't meant to be. What with Sorenson, and then Demming, and Gina and Josh, it felt to him like they had missed so many chances already. But still he'd kept holding on, just waiting for her to turn around one day and see him as not just her partner, but as the man who loved her more than he'd ever dreamed possible.

He'd thought he knew what love was when he'd married Meredith. But what he felt for Beckett ran far deeper than any emotion he had once held for his ex-wife. Meredith had never had the power to make him want to change things about himself. Before he'd met Beckett, he'd prided himself on being able to get any woman he desired, and then she'd come along and made him feel that if he were ever going to be worthy of her, he'd have to make some serious changes.

She'd made him want to be more than what he was, to be a better man. That was how he'd known that he was on to something special. Five years ago, he'd thought he had it made, a great career, an unlimited supply of money, adoring fans, and women falling at his feet. It was only recently that he'd come to realise what an asshole he'd been back then. He'd treated people (women especially) like commodities, casting them aside when he got bored with them, always looking for the next one to take their place. He'd believed his own hype, perfectly happy to accept the accolades and praise that were lavished on him, totally secure in his own self-appointed literary genius.

No wonder Beckett had hated him when they'd met at his book launch. He must have seemed like such a jackass to her. To this day, he still regretted the first impression she must have got of him. He couldn't believe he'd had the audacity to cold-read her in the interrogation room, less interested in the dead human beings she was asking about than getting her into his bed for the night.

He'd expected her to fall into a simpering heap, like all the others, but she'd rejected him point-blank. For the first time in almost a decade, Richard Castle had wanted something and it hadn't been handed to him on a silver platter. If he wanted her, he'd have to work for it.

And he'd worked for it. And worked for it. He didn't think he'd ever wanted something so much in his entire life, as the right to say she was his. To be the one she came home to every night, the one she told all her secrets to, and the one that she turned to when she was in pain. He wanted to be all that for her.

But every time he'd been pipped at the post by some other guy who'd just happened to get there first, who didn't notice or care what a treasure she was. He _knew_ they didn't care, because Sorenson and Demming had been stupid enough to let her go, and as for Josh, well he hoped it was only a matter of time.

He'd been half-entertaining the idea that in the event that she and Josh did break up, it might be the time to make his move. He couldn't afford to just sit back and watch any longer, every dud relationship brought her one step closer to the moment when he'd lose her for good.

But no, fate had intervened again, by throwing her into the path of Patrick Jane. Suave and cool and confident, exceptionally handsome and intelligent, the CBI consultant was exactly Beckett's type. And by the looks of things, they were certainly hitting it off.

As he watched now, Jane took Beckett's empty coffee cup from her with a grin and rinsed it in the sink. She thanked him with a matching smile, and the two of them walked off together back to the bullpen.

Well, this was just fantastic. She and Josh hadn't even broken up yet, and already another man had swooped in on her. Maybe it was time to resign himself to the fact that they just weren't going to happen. Love was never easy, but surely it wasn't supposed to be this hard.

"Castle?" Her voice broke into his thoughts. She'd returned to the break room, presumably to look for him. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing, really," he said. "Just pondering."

"Right. Well do you think you could save it for later?" she asked. "Everyone's waiting for you. It's time to get started."

He followed her back out to the bullpen where most of the team was gathered around the whiteboard again. Lisbon stood in front of it, adding notes with a marker. Beckett went to join her, leaving Castle to find a place next to Esposito.

"What's up, bro?" Esposito asked him as he sat down. "You look as if someone crashed your Ferrari into a brick wall."

"I'm fine," said Castle, hoping they could leave the subject at that. "What's happening?"

"Apparently since you and wonder-boy over there figured out that your vic was having marital troubles, Agent Lisbon did a bit of digging and found out that she had a boyfriend."

"Wonder-boy?" repeated Castle. "Really?"

Esposito grinned. "You wouldn't believe some of the stories Rigsby and Cho have been telling me about him. It's like there's nothing he won't do to prove he's right. Kind of like you, bro," he added. "Turns out you're not the only one who gets a kick out of going rogue."

"So, this boyfriend," said Castle, keen to get off the subject of Patrick Jane. "What's the story there?"

"His name's Carl Vasser. Some big-shot lawyer at a firm in town. Apparently they were pretty serious."

"What about the other two victims?" asked Castle. "Any new developments on them?"

"Not so far. Van Pelt and Ryan are looking through their financials and phone records to see if there's any connection between them." He pointed to a desk on the right side of the room where Ryan and the redheaded CBI agent were both hunched over a computer, murmuring to one another.

"OK, people!" Beckett's voice echoed through the bullpen, calling for their attention. "Assignments for today. Cho, Esposito, I want you to go to the college where Sylvia Hartnett was studying, and interview as many people as you can. She was found only a few streets away with all her books, someone might have seen something. Rigsby I want you to head over to the salon where Evelyn Johnston worked and canvass all the staff there, and see if you can get a hold of any CCTV footage as well. Van Pelt, Ryan, you stay here and keep digging. If anything pops call Lisbon or me right away. Got it?" she asked the room at large.

"Yes," they all chorused.

Beckett turned to Lisbon. "Let's you and I and the boys go and have a little chat to Carl Vasser."

"Sure," said Lisbon. "Castle, Jane, let's go."

Castle rose from his chair but Jane let out a yawn and lay down on the couch.

"I'll pass," he said. "I need to catch up on my sleep."

"Jane," said Lisbon through gritted teeth. "If you don't get up this instant, I will-"

"Oh spare me your empty threats Lisbon," said Jane casually. "We both know you won't mean whatever you say, so save your breath."

She let out a sigh. "Fine," she said. "I'm not in the mood to fight you. But don't bother the others. They've got work to do."

"Yes ma'am," he said, mock-saluting her.

"Cho, he is not to leave the building without supervision," said Lisbon. "This case has got enough media attention, the last thing we need is him grabbing even more headlines with some ridiculous stunt."

"You got it, boss."

Lisbon joined Beckett and Castle at the elevator.

"-treats me like such a child," they heard Jane say as the doors slid closed.

"Do you often let him walk all over you like that?" asked Beckett with interest, as they descended.

Lisbon scowled. "Lesson number one about life with Jane," she said. "Pick your battles."

* * *

><p>After a short drive, they arrived at the offices of Deacon-Bray and Associates, the law firm where Carl Vasser was employed as a junior partner. They pushed their way through the glass front doors to the reception desk where a young woman with dark hair and long dangling earrings smiled at them in greeting.<p>

"Good morning," she said pleasantly. "How can I help you?"

Lisbon pulled out her badge and flashed it at the receptionist. "Agent Teresa Lisbon, CBI. We're here to see Carl Vasser."

"I'm sorry, Mr Vasser is in a meeting," she said. "Do you have an appointment?"

"No, but it's very important that we speak with him. It concerns a murder investigation."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said the young woman, her smile tightening a little. "But Mr Vasser gave explicit instructions that he was not to be disturbed. I'd be happy to arrange a suitable time for you to come back."

"Miss, are you aware that by preventing us from seeing him gives us ample cause to arrest you for obstruction of justice?" said Beckett, starting to get irritated now.

As Lisbon, Beckett and the receptionist argued, Castle cast his eyes over the desk. He grinned to himself as he spotted a copy of 'Heat Wave' on top of a pile of books. Perfect.

"Lisbon, Beckett," he said, over the din. "I think we'll have to come back another time. We're sorry to have caused you inconvenience, ma'am."

Dumbfounded, the two cops turned to face him.

"What?" snapped Lisbon.

"Castle, what the hell are you doing?" Beckett hissed, under her breath.

"Trust me," he whispered back. Up until now, he had hung back behind the other two but now he stepped between them, wearing his most dashing, debonair smile.

He saw the receptionist's eyes widen in recognition, and then flick to the book and back again.

"We'd really appreciate it if you could go ahead and make us that appointment," he said. "Let me leave you my name…"

"I know who you are," said the receptionist. "I can't believe you're here. I thought you lived in New York."

"I do," he said. "But I do like to visit California when I can. So many beautiful women."

There was a snort from behind him that he suspected had come from his partner, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Lisbon biting her lip to hide a smirk. Thankfully, the young woman was too busy giggling to notice these suspicious signs.

"I respect that you're doing your job," he went on, "but the thing is, the next Nikki Heat novel is going to feature a lawyer and I want it feel authentic when I write it, so I really need to talk to a real lawyer, and I heard Carl Vasser is one of the best there is. I know I'm probably asking too much but if there is any possible way you might be able to help me see him, that would be great."

There was a pause, during which the young receptionist seemed to be at war with herself, and Castle held his breath waiting to see if his gambit had paid off. The next moment, she was reaching for the phone.

"Let me see what I can do."

She dialled a number, and had a brief conversation with whoever was on the other end. When she hung the phone back up again, she was beaming at him.

"It turns out Mr Vasser's meeting has been cut short. His next client isn't due until eleven, so he'll see you now if you like."

"Fantastic," he said. "This will help me so much with my book. Thank you so much" –he quickly glanced at her name tag- "Alison, you saved the day. In fact I'm going to name one of the characters after you."

"Really?" asked Alison, thrilled.

"Of course," he said. "After what you've done for me, you deserve it."

Alison batted her eyelashes in what she evidently thought was a seductive matter, and Castle forced himself not to recoil.

"His office is on the third floor," she said. "Second door on the left when you get off the elevator. "

"Thank you," he said.

"Mr Castle?" she said, timidly, as he turned to leave. "Would you mind signing my book?" She held out her copy of 'Heat Wave.' "Just so I can prove I really did meet you."

"Sure," he said, with his most winning, fan-appeasing smile. "Do you have a pen?"

He scribbled his signature on the inside front cover and handed it back to her.

"Thank you so much!" she gushed, gazing at the signature as if it were a precious jewel. "I've read it five times already. Nikki Heat is your best protagonist yet. However did you come up with the idea for her?"

"I had a lot of help," he said.

"Oh yes, I read that she was based on some NYPD cop," said Alison dismissively.

"She's not your average cop," said Castle, managing to keep his tone polite, and not rise to the careless description of Beckett. "She's very special. One could even say extraordinary."

There was a sharp intake of breath from behind him, which he pretended not to hear.

"Is she pretty?" asked Alison, suddenly, eyes narrowing. Castle hid a smirk at the idea of Alison putting herself in contention with Kate Beckett. It was like comparing a dandelion with a rose.

"No," he answered her. "She's beautiful."

Alison looked irritated by this, and there was a muffled gasp from Beckett, and a cough from Lisbon. He thanked Alison again, and lead Beckett and Lisbon off in the direction of the elevator. "Good luck Mr Castle," she called after him. "I know the book will be brilliant."

* * *

><p>When they were safely in the elevator, Castle turned triumphantly to Beckett.<p>

"You now have my permission to be impressed."

Beckett simply rolled her eyes. "You managed to charm your way past a woman who was obviously hot for you. I don't think it was any particular kind of skill."

"It worked, didn't it?" he said. "Which is more than can be said for you two."

"If Jane were here, he would have done exactly the same thing," remarked Lisbon.

They reached the third floor and Lisbon got straight out and walked to Carl Vasser's door. Castle made to follow her, but Beckett held him back with a hand on his arm.

"Did you mean that? What you said about me to that girl?"

He chuckled. "Come on, Beckett, you know you're gorgeous. I'm sure plenty of people have told you that before."

She blushed. "No, not that…the other thing."

His smile faded. "Of course I meant it," he said. "Every word." Their eyes met, and he felt his heartbeat start to speed up like it always did when he looked into her eyes.

"Thank you," she said. "That was really sweet of you to say."

"Anytime," he said.

She smiled at him, and all of a sudden he wanted to throw caution to the winds, and tell her, right now, exactly how he felt about her. Screw Josh, and Carl Vasser, and Patrick Jane, she had to know just how important she was to him.

He fell silent, trying to find the right words.

"Hey!" Lisbon's voice rang out from down the corridor. "Are you two coming or not?"

And suddenly the spell was broken. Beckett let go of his arm and strode down to join Lisbon at the door. Castle trailed along after her, marvelling at what he had almost done.

He felt slightly ashamed of himself. This was neither the time nor the place for such a conversation, they were in the middle of a murder investigation for God's sake; a potential 3XK case, and he was allowing himself to get distracted. It was his fault Jerry Tyson had gotten away. He owed it to those three murdered women to stay focused.

But after this was done, after they'd caught the S.O.B who'd done this, 3XK or not, then all bets were off. She couldn't deny the spark they had between them. He could feel it when they looked at each other, like a bomb about to explode. He was sure he wasn't imagining it; there was something real between them.

One thing he was sure of, thought Castle, as Lisbon tapped on the door. Patrick Jane could eat his heart out.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm pleased that Castle got a bigger share of the spotlight in this one; I feel I've been neglecting him a little. I hope you liked it.<strong>


	6. Under The Gun

**Thanks again for all the reviews, they motivate me to keep on going. I hope you enjoy this new chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. We're clear on that, right?**

**Rating: T for a bit of course language.**

* * *

><p>Lisbon pounded on Carl Vasser's office door for the second time.<p>

"Mr Vasser?" she called out. "This is the CBI!" –Beckett raised an eyebrow at her- "And the NYPD," she added. Castle coughed, indignantly. "And a writer," she finished, rolling her eyes. "We'd like to talk to you."

No answer.

"Mr Vasser?" she called again. "It's imperative that we speak to you. Open the door!"

Still no response. She looked sideways at Beckett. "What do you think?" she asked.

"Maybe the receptionist got it wrong, or he's out or something," she said, reasonably.

"I have a bad feeling about this," piped up Castle, from behind them. "In the movies, this kind of thing always ends badly."

"This isn't a movie Castle," Beckett snapped, but she too was regarding the closed door with some apprehension. She and Lisbon exchanged wary glances, and then a thudding sound was heard from inside the room.

As one, the detective and agent drew their weapons from their holsters, and this time, a muffled sob was audible through the door.

"Castle, you stay back," Beckett hissed under her breath, as she and Lisbon clicked the safeties off their guns. He just had time to register the looks of concentration on both of their faces, with the same cool intensity in their eyes, as he obediently shuffled back a few more inches.

"You ready?" asked Lisbon, and Beckett nodded. Then, she seized the doorknob, flung the door open with a crash and they burst into the room, guns raised, Castle scurrying inside after them.

Carl Vasser, a short man with an ill-fitting suit and thick glasses, was sitting at his desk towards the back of the room, head in his hands, sobbing uncontrollably. He'd barely flinched when the door had been opened, and in fact, didn't seem the slightest bit surprised by their sudden appearance. With a jolt, Lisbon noticed a revolver on his desk, propped up against a half-empty bottle of whisky. A sharp intake of breath behind her told her Castle had clocked the gun too.

Still keeping her own Glock at shoulder height, she cleared her throat.

"Mr Vasser," she said carefully. "We're police. We'd like to speak with you about Rebecca Van Keil."

Vasser's only response was to remove his glasses, toss them aside, and to proceed to cry even harder, and Beckett was the next to speak.

"Were you involved with Mrs Van Keil?" she asked.

Vasser's head came up out of his hands; his tear-streaked face flushed, and his eyes puffy.

"Involved?" he asked.

"Were you dating?" asked Beckett, rephrasing her earlier question.

"I know what 'involved' means!" he said angrily, pounding his fist onto the desk. "Yes, we were involved! Becky and I had been dating for over a year, ever since she separated from that jerk husband of hers. This is all his fault," he spat, with sudden venom.

"You blame Derek Van Keil for his wife's death?" asked Castle. "Why?"

"Castle, shut up!" snapped Beckett. It was typical of him to go and open his big mouth, without being asked.

"Who the hell is this guy?" asked Vasser. "He's not carrying a gun so he's obviously not a cop, and by the way, I would appreciate it if you two could lower yours," he said, eyes flickering from the barrel of one gun to the other.

Lisbon flicked another glance at Beckett, who nodded. Slowly, they clicked the safeties back on again, and returned their guns to their holsters, though Lisbon kept her hand near it, just in case.

"I'm consulting on the case," said Castle. "I'm trying to help find out who did this to Rebecca."

"Why don't you just go back and talk to Derek Van Keil?" he said. "I'm sure that creep had something to do with it."

"What makes you say that?" asked Lisbon.

"The man's a total control-freak, cruel, verbally abusive. When Becky wanted out of their marriage she had divorce papers drawn up, but he refused to sign them."

"Do you have any idea why?"

He nodded. "Her parents left them a big share of their inheritance. Derek knew if they divorced, he'd lose his cut, so he forced her to stay married to him, at least on paper."

"Is that how the two of you met?" asked Castle.

Vasser nodded again. "I specialize in wills and matrimonial affairs. Becky found me in the phone book and thought I could help her get him to sign the divorce papers. But the son of a bitch wouldn't budge."

"How much did Derek stand to lose if they divorced?" asked Beckett.

"Becky's parents were quite wealthy," said Vasser. "They owned several million dollars worth of property around Sacramento."

"Sounds like several million motives for murder," said Beckett, and Lisbon nodded in agreement.

"Did you know that I didn't find out about what happened to her for _two days_?" demanded Vasser of them suddenly, getting shakily to his feet and snatching up the revolver in the process. He pointed it at Castle, who gulped, and Lisbon and Beckett drew their own weapons once again. "I heard about it on the news that night, but it wasn't until they released the names of the victims that I knew it was Becky. And do you know why?" he asked, the hand that held the gun shaking violently now. "Because when you cops went out to inform the families of what had happened, you went to that asshole Derek, who didn't give a damn." Quick as a flash, he moved the barrel of the gun away from Castle and pointed it at Lisbon instead.

"Drop it," he said, gesturing to her Glock. "Or I swear to God I'll shoot you in the head."

After a moment's hesitation, Lisbon obeyed and her gun hit the floor with a clunk.

Staring down the barrel of his revolver, Lisbon forced herself not to become paralysed with fear. His finger was hovering frighteningly close to the trigger, and now all her hope rested with Detective Beckett to get her out of this alive.

"Put down the gun, Mr Vasser," said Beckett, but he ignored her, keeping his eyes fixed on Lisbon.

"I saw you on that news report, Agent Lisbon, isn't it? If you'd done your job properly you would have would have come to me, someone who actually loved her, rather than him. But you just couldn't be bothered to dig a little deeper. That's the problem with you people, you're all about the quick close and never about the truth."

She swallowed. "That's not true. I always do my best to get to the truth, but I can only go where the investigation takes me, Mr Vasser," she said. "Talking to the spouse is standard procedure."

"The hell with procedure!" he bellowed. "I bet the moment you left he starting jumping up and down for joy. He gets what he's always wanted…and I lose everything."

"Carl," said Beckett, using his given name for the first time. "I really don't want to have to hurt you, so you need to put that gun down now."

"Oh, what do I care if you shoot me?" he scoffed. "Go ahead. I just lost the woman I love. And besides, if I go down, I guarantee that I'll take _her_ with me." He tilted the gun, and there was a click as a round slid into the chamber.

* * *

><p>The tension in the room was palpable. Castle could see Lisbon's face draining of colour, even as she fought not to show how terrified she was. Beckett still had her gun trained on Vasser, but she too was starting to show the strain, and for a moment, Castle thanked God that this time <em>she<em> wasn't the one in danger.

He had to do something if there was to be any chance of them all getting out of there without somebody getting shot. Vasser was getting more agitated by the moment, and the beads of sweat gathering on his brow were a sure sign that he was approaching breaking point.

"What if it wasn't Derek Van Keil?" he asked Vasser.

"Castle, I said shut up!" said Beckett, frantically. "Please!"

"It was him," said Vasser. "I know it."

"But are you absolutely sure?"

"Castle, please be quiet," Beckett begged him. He could hear the panic in her voice, and knew she was terrified that Vasser might turn the gun back on him.

But he ignored her, and ploughed on. "Two other women were killed in the same manner as Rebecca, Carl."

"So?"

"So they had families who loved them too, husbands and parents and children. And they're in just as much pain as you are. And if you kill Agent Lisbon, you're taking away somebody who can help them, and you, find out the truth."

Vasser was silent, the barrel of the gun slipped a few inches down; he was getting there.

"It's not going to bring her back, Carl," Castle continued. "Nothing good can come out of this, and I think you know that. Have you been watching the new reports about this case?"

"Yeah," he said, sniffling. "They said it might be a serial killer. Damn press, making things up."

"Not this time," said Castle. "It's a possibility we're considering. Rebecca may just have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, but we won't know that unless we can continue investigating."

"What kind of person just goes out and randomly kills three people?" asked Vasser.

"The same kind of person who stands with a gun to the head of an innocent woman," said Castle, surprised at his own daring in saying such a thing. "You've got a choice to make now, Carl. Once you pull that trigger, you can't take it back."

Vasser looked as though there was an intense internal battle going on inside him, but to Castle and Beckett's horror, he took careful aim once again. Lisbon however, seemed strangely calm, rather than squeezing her eyes shut and waiting for the end, as most people would have done, she stood straight and tall, and looked Vasser in the eye. Castle's respect for her increased a hundredfold. She was clearly one brave woman, even now when faced with probable death, she remained strong.

"You're tough," said Vasser to her. "I admire that."

"Rebecca was tough too, wasn't she?" asked Castle. "She was trying to get out of a bad marriage, she was going to rebuild her life. And you were going to help her do that. But now things have changed. You need to be the tough one now, and taking a life isn't going to help you."

Another tense silence. Vasser's gun hand began to shake again, and then, finally, after what seemed like hours, he dropped it. "I'm sorry," he said, through renewed sobs. "I'm sorry."

Castle let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding, as Beckett quickly picked the gun up, and took the bullets out. Lisbon took a long, steadying breath, and Castle noticed that her body was shaking very slightly. He suspected that now the adrenaline was leaving her, she was just beginning to appreciate how close she'd come to dying. She recovered quickly though, and reached for her handcuffs.

"Hey," Beckett said to her. "You OK?"

Lisbon attempted a small smile. "Yeah. Mr Vasser," she said, her voice clear and strong. "I'm now going to place you under arrest for threatening a police officer with a deadly weapon. Turn around and put your hands behind your back."

Vasser did as he was told, and soon came the metallic clicking as the cuffs were placed around his wrists.

* * *

><p>Beckett sidled up to Castle as Lisbon checked the cuffs were secure and then began to march Vasser from the room.<p>

"_When_ are you going to stop doing that?" she said, angrily, swatting him hard on the arm. "I told you to shut up!"

"What?" he said. "If I hadn't said something we'd have been carrying two bodies out of here. I assessed the situation and I saw he didn't really want to kill her. I just had to make _him_ see that."

She glared at him. "You. Are. A. Writer," she said, emphasising each word. "Twenty-three crime fiction novels do not a criminal psychologist make!"

"Why are you so angry with me?" he asked, genuinely confused. "Everything turned out well in the end."

"You got lucky today," she said. "And so far, whenever you've put yourself at risk like that you have been lucky. But one day, that luck's going to run out. And how do I ever look your daughter in the eye again if something happens to you? Not to mention your mother, how am I supposed to tell her that her son got himself killed through his own pigheadedness?"

"I-" he began, but she went ranting on.

"Do you have _any_ idea how much I hate it when you do things like this? How would _you_ like it if you constantly had to watch _your_ best friend in the world throw themselves into danger?"

"I do," he said quietly. "Every day."

"What?" she said, distracted from her tirade.

"Do you think it's easy for me to see _you_ go chasing after the scum of New York City every day without a thought for your own safety?"

"It's my job, Castle," she said, wearily. "I trained for this."

"I know," he said. "But just because it's your job, does it not make it OK for me to worry about you? Does it make me an idiot when I feel relieved every time you come back with a suspect and you're not hurt? Because if it does, then call me an idiot, Beckett, because I don't think I'm ever going to get used to it."

Silence fell following this statement, and Castle had the impression that he had just given away a lot more of his feelings then he had intended. But that was the effect Beckett always had on him. Never before had he known someone who could piss him off so much, but yet completely captivate him at the same time.

"I don't think you're an idiot, Castle," she said, smiling. "At least not about that. I feel the same way."

"You do?"

"Always."

He returned the smile, wondering if one day she might ever say that to him for real. But he dismissed the thought once again. They had a case to solve.

"How selfish are we?" he said. "Standing here complaining about how hard _we_ have it, when we're not even the real victims in this situation?"

"Come on," she said, the smile vanishing. "Let's go check on Lisbon."

* * *

><p>Patrick Jane was abruptly pulled from his peaceful sleep by the sound of several voices. Without opening his eyes, he was able to identify the voices of Ryan, Esposito and Cho.<p>

"Beckett just called," said Esposito. "They're bringing in Carl Vasser."

"What happened?" asked Cho.

"She said he was hysterical about Van Keil, and then he pulled a gun on Agent Lisbon."

Jane's eyes snapped open, and he thought he felt his heart stop for a moment.

"What?" said Ryan and Cho, together.

"He saw her on the news report when they found the bodies and he was mad at her for not coming to see him earlier. Beckett says he was waving the gun around, rambling all sorts of nonsense."

There was a mixture of oaths and curses from the three of them, and Jane waited impatiently for someone to ask the question he was most anxious to hear the answer to. Finally, Ryan asked it.

"Is she OK?"

"Yeah. Apparently, Castle talked him down. He-"

But the rest of the sentence fell deaf on Jane's ears. His head was spinning with what he'd just heard. Castle had talked him down. _Castle_ had been there to stop Lisbon from getting her head blown off, while he, Patrick, had lay snoozing on this couch without a care in the world.

Instantly, he felt ashamed of himself. He should have been there with her. They were supposed to be partners. She had never, ever failed to come through for him when he needed her, which was a lot, and now on the rare occasion that he might have been able to do something for her, he hadn't been there.

If he'd needed more proof that he wasn't worthy of her; here it was. He'd allowed himself to become complacent to the risks of their job; had forgotten the fact that every time she stepped out the door, he could potentially never see her again. The last words he'd said to her as she left this afternoon had been flippant and insulting, and it could very well have been the last thing he'd ever said to her.

He brooded on this for several more minutes, until the elevator pinged and he heard the babble of voices break out again.

"Lisbon, thank God! Are you OK?" Apparently Van Pelt had joined the fray now.

"Nice work, bro," said Esposito, presumably to Castle, and Jane heard the thud of a hand being clapped on a shoulder.

"Close shave, boss," said Cho. "Castle, I think we owe you a drink."

There was a murmur of agreement, and then Lisbon's voice rang out over the noise.

"All right, everyone knock it off!" she said, business-like as usual. "I'm fine. They're processing Vasser downstairs. Cho, go and get him and bring him into interview 1."

Jane heard Cho's heavy footfalls begin to move away, and Lisbon spoke again. "Beckett, I think you should take this one. I'm not going to get much out of him if he thinks I'm partially to blame. And take Jane in with you, he might be able to help." She paused. "Where is he anyway?"

"Right where you left him," said Ryan, a little resentfully. Jane felt six pairs of eyes turn towards him, and kept feigning sleep, making sure to take steady breaths and keeping his face slack and unresponsive.

"Of course he is," said Lisbon, mostly to herself, he fancied. Footsteps approached and then stopped just next to him. He could smell her distinctive cinnamon scent, and heard her soft breathing.

"Jane!" she said loudly, and poked him, hard.

He opened his eyes and sat up, rubbing his shoulder. She didn't look any the worse for wear given her brush with near-death he was pleased to see. She was still regarding him with the same expression of annoyance that she did every day, her eyes blazing at him angrily. She was OK.

He thought briefly about apologizing for bailing on her, but ultimately decided against it. He didn't really feel like grovelling in front of all these people, and she wouldn't believe him anyway.

"What is it?" he asked.

"You're up," she said. "You and Beckett are going to interview Carl Vasser."

Before he could say anything else, Lisbon walked away, and Beckett had taken her place.

"Let's go," she ordered him, and he sulkily got up from the couch and followed her to the interview room. As he passed Castle, the writer caught his eye and shook his head slightly. Jane resisted the temptation to say something cutting back to him; the last thing he needed or cared for was more disapproval. But when he passed Lisbon, she didn't meet his eyes at all, which made him feel a million times worse than anything Castle could have done.

* * *

><p>After Jane and Beckett had disappeared, and the others returned to their tasks, Lisbon turned to Castle.<p>

"Do you want a coffee?" she offered. "I was just about to make one."

"Love one," he said.

In the break room, with a cup of steaming coffee in front of each of them, Lisbon awkwardly cleared her throat.

"I just wanted to thank you," she said. "If it hadn't been for you, I might not be sitting here enjoying this cup of crappy CBI coffee."

He chuckled. "Don't mention it, Agent Lisbon."

"You can drop the title, I think you've earned that right," she said, smiling. "You have great instincts for police work. Beckett is very lucky to have you."

"Sometimes I don't think she sees it that way," he said, ruefully, taking a sip.

Lisbon thought back to the scene she'd witnessed just outside the elevator at Deacon-Bray, when they'd thought she wasn't looking. You could feel the vibes those two were emitting from a mile off.

"I wouldn't be too sure of that," she said.

"Really?" said Castle, sounding unconvinced.

"I heard you two arguing while I was taking Vasser to the car," she said. "Somehow, I don't think she'd be as angry with you if she didn't know how important you are to her."

She pushed a plate of cookies toward him, and he took one.

"Chocolate-chip fan eh?" he asked, inspecting it. "A woman after my own heart. Unfortunately, it already belongs to another." He sighed. "Not that it's doing me any good."

She chuckled. "If you're worried about Jane spending time with her; don't be," she said. "He'll try and charm anything that moves, just to make himself feel good. And I think Beckett knows that."

"And if she doesn't?" asked Castle.

"Then she's not as smart as she looks," she said. It dawned on her that she was now doing exactly what she had warned Jane _not_ to do by interfering with the writer and his muse, but he had saved her life today. Surely she owed him one.

"She is, you know," said Castle, with a fond smile. "Just like you."

She groaned. "Why do people keep saying that?" she asked.

"Because it's true," he said. "You're both too stubborn to see it."

She grunted, and then they both heard Van Pelt calling her from the bullpen.

"Back to work," he said. "But I'm glad we had this talk. It was good getting to know you."

"Even though all we talked about were our partners?"

He laughed. "Even then."

From outside the door, they heard the click-click-click of Beckett's stiletto heels passing by, talking to Jane. They sounded excited about something; they must have made a breakthrough. Beckett laughed, and Castle sighed.

"Hang in there, Castle," Lisbon said. "She'll come around. Now let's go find out what's going on."

* * *

><p>Within five minutes everybody was gathered around the whiteboard again.<p>

"Vasser told us more about Derek Van Keil," Beckett informed the group. "Guy sounds like a real a-hole. But he has an alibi for the time of his wife's murder."

"But then," Jane spoke up. "We found out that Rebecca has a brother. His parents cut him out of their will because he dropped out of college, and apparently he didn't take that too well."

"But with all that cash at his disposal, it would be well within Van Keil's means to hire a hitman," Lisbon pointed out. "He's not off the suspect list yet."

"And anyway, this doesn't get us any closer to finding out what happened to the other two women," said Castle.

"Well here's where it gets interesting," said Beckett. "Turns out that both of our other victims were pretty well-off too."

Esposito nodded. "Yeah the university told us that Sylvia Hartnett paid all her course fees upfront every semester, and she was studying law, which costs an arm and a leg."

"And Evelyn Johnston owned that salon," said Rigsby. "She bought the place outright, no mortgage or anything, and there was some pretty high-quality gear in there."

"How do you know what high-quality hair equipment looks like, Rigsby?" asked Ryan. "Don't tell me you're a closet metrosexual like Castle."

Castle and Rigsby looked affronted, while everyone else sniggered. Even Lisbon had to bite her lip to hide a smile.

"It can't be a coincidence that all these women were rich," she said. "That has to be the connection."

"Ah, money," said Castle. "One of the oldest motives for murder in the book. And I should know, I wrote it."

"Shut up, Castle," Beckett snapped, but she was smiling a little too.

"One question," said Esposito. "Where does 3XK fit into all this?"

Jane cleared his throat. "I have a theory about that. What if your serial killer decided to put his skills to work for a little financial gain?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" asked Beckett.

"Well you guys have no idea where he goes when he's not in New York, right? And he's got to fund his lifestyle somehow. What if he's become a contract killer?"

The NYPD contingent all looked to each other, doubtfully.

"I don't know about that," Castle. "I've met this guy and I really don't think he does it for any reason other than a personal vendetta against his mother."

"And if he's only going to accept contracts on blonde-haired, rich women he's going to have a pretty limited clientele," Beckett pointed out.

"Sure, the blondes are the only ones _we_ know about. But I bet if we did a search, we'd find a bunch of unsolved murders that were killed this way, which nobody would have thought to connect to him because they didn't fit his usual choice of victim. You know, kind of the serial killer way of not mixing business with pleasure."

"Tyson's a smart guy," said Beckett, after a while. "He had us fooled for that whole investigation until he took Castle and Ryan hostage. He's certainly good enough at playing chameleon to slip under the radar."

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to look into it," said Castle. "And it _would_ explain the long periods of absence."

They shared a long glance. Ryan and Esposito exchanged knowing looks, shaking their heads, fully aware that an entire conversation was taking place.

"Guys," said Lisbon, breaking the moment. "Care to share?"

"Run the search," said Beckett.

Van Pelt nodded, and began to tap on her computer. "It might take a while," she said. "Maybe we should let it run overnight and I'll check it first thing in the morning."

"OK, so I guess we're done for the night, people," said Lisbon. "See you all in the morning."

* * *

><p>Everyone began packing up to leave in good spirits. Even Lisbon thought that the day had ended on a high note. Finally, they all had started to gel, standing around the white board together building theory as a team, tossing around ideas and finally making a little progress in this frustrating case.<p>

Beckett called a goodnight to everyone, and began to head for the elevator. Surprisingly, Castle was not at her side, standing by one of the desks, apparently deep in thought. Jane, who had gone back to his couch, waved at the detective in farewell and sent her a big smile.

"Goodnight Kate," he said.

"Goodnight Patrick."

Lisbon's good mood dissipated as quickly as it had come. They were on a first-name basis now? A quick glance at Castle told her she was not the only one thrown by this new development; he was scowling in Jane's direction. She'd have to try and convince Jane to tone it down a little with Beckett; she would hate for him to get between the detective and the writer. She had seen first hand today what a close relationship they had, and she didn't want their partnership to be ruined purely by a chance meeting with Jane.

Not to mention, it might get rid of the little knot in her stomach too that seemed to keep reappearing every time she saw Beckett and her consultant together. After today, she was even less sure about where Jane's loyalties lay; not just because he hadn't been there during the showdown at Deacon-Bray, but also because he didn't seem to care at all.

He hadn't said he was sorry for not being there, hadn't even asked her if she was OK. Even the team from the NYPD, people she met two days ago, had shown more concern then her partner of seven years. Not that she would have told him anything but 'fine' if he had said something, but still, it would've been nice to be asked.

Hadn't all they'd been through meant anything to him? They'd been kidnapped, shot at, locked in a shipping container sent to the middle of nowhere. She'd been there through his period of blindness, through every single Red John dead end, and he'd helped her through the incident with Dr Carmen, had even killed for her, once.

Was that all over now?

She packed up her things, and got ready to leave. It had been a tough day, and she was looking forward to getting home to unwind.

She paused by his couch.

"Goodnight, Jane."

'Night Lisbon," he mumbled.

He hadn't even bothered to open his eyes.

* * *

><p>The elevator door closed behind Lisbon, and finally, Jane could relax, until suddenly a new voice spoke up.<p>

"Jane." It was Castle.

"Hey," he said, sitting up once again. "About to head out?"

"In a minute. But first I wanted to say something to you."

The writer was devoid of his usual jovial air; in fact he looked deadly serious about something.

"I'm intrigued," said Jane.

"What the hell kind of partner are you?" Castle said angrily, without preamble. "You've got yourself a hell of a woman right there and you're treating her like crap."

Jane rolled his eyes. "Haven't you already satisfied your hero complex for the day?" he asked.

"Well, if you had done your job, maybe I wouldn't have had to," said Castle.

"My job is to consult on cases, and use my expertise as I see fit," said Jane. "That's what the CBI requires of me, and that's what I do."

Castle frowned. "You're her partner. You're supposed to be there for her. You're supposed to have her back."

Jane felt an odd mixture of anger and sadness rise up in him at the same time. It was all right for Castle to stand there and judge, but he didn't know the particulars of the situation. This was so much more complex then simply being there, and all at once he wanted to make Castle understand.

"Well what about you?" he asked. "What kind of a partner are you?"

"I'd do anything for Beckett." Jane believed him. He sounded absolutely certain.

"And what about in the future?" he asked.

"Always," Castle said, simply. Jane gathered that this word held special meaning for him; by the way he smiled slightly as he said it.

"I can't promise Lisbon that," Jane admitted. "There are things I need to do… things that are going to hurt her. And the best thing I can do for her is to make sure I inflict as little pain as possible when the time comes." To go into any more detail would reveal too much; talking to Beckett had been one thing, she knew what it was like to suffer the loss of someone she loved, but Castle was different. He didn't need the whole world finding out his personal demons.

"So you figure if you disappoint her from the start, you're covered?" said Castle.

"Pretty much."

"Have you told _her_ that?" asked Castle. "Because she doesn't seem like the type who's going to give up on you, even if you push her away."

"It's the most rational thing to do," said Jane. "She'll thank me in the long run."

He hoped they could leave the conversation at that, but no such luck.

"Are you really as cold as you seem?" asked Castle. "Do you really not care about what happened to her today?"

"Of course I care!" Jane snapped. "It's just…complicated."

Castle sighed. "You know, they say people don't appreciate what they have until they lose it."

"I know," said Jane, thinking of Angela and Charlotte. "I've experienced it."

"You nearly lost her today," said Castle. "You should think about that."

He turned to leave, but Jane called after him, making him pause.

"Thank you," he said. "For being there for her today."

The corner of Castle's mouth turned up into a half-smile. "My pleasure," he said. "Just next time, make sure I don't have to."

And with that, he left Jane to his confused thoughts.

* * *

><p><strong>I'm quite pleased with this one, and I certainly enjoyed writing it. Please bear with me on the case, it will make sense in the end (I hope.) But I'll admit, the case element is not my strong suit.<strong>


	7. Sleepless Nights

**It's been a long time between updates, I know, and I sincerely apologise. Feel free to berate me for my slowness, I'm sure I deserve it. :) However, I feel I should forewarn you that this chapter contains zero case development. It's basically just fifteen pages of Caskett and Jisbon fluff (and a touch of angst.) If that's not your cup of chamomile I fully understand if you want to give this chapter a miss.**

**If you're OK with somewhat pointless shippy ramblings, read on. I took a few liberties here and there, so apologies if anyone comes off OOC.**

**Still rated T. Still not mine.**

* * *

><p>Wrapped in a fluffy robe provided by the hotel, Beckett sighed with contentment. She'd just treated herself to a very long, extra steamy shower, scraped her hair into a ponytail, and now was lying on the bed in her room, her own copy of 'Heat Wave' on the bedside table.<p>

She picked it up, and opened it to the dedication. For the millionth time, her eyes scanned the eleven words.

"To the extraordinary KB and all my friends at the 12th."

She'd never tell Castle, but she read that page a _lot_.

She'd read the whole book three times so far, and every time found something new that she'd missed before. She enjoyed picking out the references to the cases they'd worked, looking for all the similarities between the characters and their real-life counterparts, and Castle's talent for storytelling still surprised her even now.

She remembered the first time she'd ever seen him with her own eyes at a book signing. She hadn't been quite able to believe that the man whose photo was on the back of all her books, could actually be sitting in front of her. When she'd reached the table where he sat, and she'd handed him the book, their fingers had touched briefly, and for one fleeting moment their eyes had locked.

"Whom should I make it out to?" he asked, pen poised.

"Kate."

And then he'd smiled, the first time she'd seen the lopsided grin that had been lighting up her days for three years now.

"And is there a last name that goes with that?"

She'd shaken her head. "No. Just Kate."

"Kate," he repeated. "A beautiful name. It suits you."

She still wasn't 100% sure why she'd chosen not to give her surname, except that she associated it with being at work, and her normal life, and that for that one moment when she was meeting her idol, something she'd been imagining for a long time, she could simply be Kate.

She distinctly remembered the way she'd been breathless as he signed the book with a flourish, and handed it back to her. Then he'd smiled at her once again, and gestured to the next person in the queue to come forward.

There were so many things she'd wanted to tell him; how she'd read every book he'd ever written right from "In A Hail Of Bullets," how whenever he released a new one she'd devote an entire day to devouring it from cover to cover. How his novels had got her through the loss of her mother and her father's downward spiral into alcoholism. But what was she to him? Just another fan; a drop in the ocean.

The woman who'd been standing behind her stepped up to the table. She heard him greet her. Saw him flash her the same smile. She'd left the bookstore sure she was never going to see him again.

She never would have expected, when the Tisdale case hit her desk that it would begin with a re-creation of a Richard Castle novel, and it would end with her having the real thing for a partner.

Her cell phone rang, and she let the book drop onto the bedspread as she reached for it.

* * *

><p>"Beckett."<p>

"Hey, girl. How goes it in Cali?" chirped Lanie's voice.

"You know, the usual. Sun, surf, murder."

"Of course. Have you hooked up with the CBI team yet?"

"Yes."

"What are they like?"

Beckett rolled her eyes. "Lanie, we're here to catch a serial killer, not to socialize."

"Who says you can't do both?" said Lanie, and Beckett pictured her sitting at home on her couch, maybe with a block of chocolate. "Now come on, spill."

"They're good people. Hardworking, efficient." She mentally excluded Jane from that description, as far as she had seen, he was neither hardworking nor efficient.

"I don't want to know that kind of stuff!" said Lanie, irritably. "I want the good stuff. What are they really like? Who's hooking up with whom? Are any of them cute?"

"Lanie," she said, in exasperation.

"What? Javi's away, and the only guys I see at work have the minor drawback of being dead," said Lanie. "Come on, throw me a bone here, there must be at least one interesting person there."

"Well…there is one," said Beckett. "Patrick Jane. He's not a cop; he says he isn't a psychic, but that's the closest thing I can think if. He reads minds, and it's like he sees right through people. I've never met anyone like him before."

"Ooh," said Lanie, now with far more interest. "Is he hot?"

"He's OK," she said, non-committaly, and untruthfully.

Lanie scoffed. "You do know that it's against the feminist code to lie to your best friend, right?"

"Honestly? On a scale of one to ten, he's ten to the tenth power," said Beckett. She may have a boyfriend but she wasn't dead, and though she'd never really gone for blondes, there was no question that he was attractive. Very attractive.

"And what does your writer-monkey think about Mr Sexy Psychic?" asked Lanie, shrewdly. "Bet he's not too happy."

"What are you talking about?"

Lanie laughed. "Like you haven't noticed the way he glowers at any guy who gets within a foot of you, especially when they happen to be all hot and mysterious as well."

Beckett remembered Castle's hostile glare at Jane earlier in the day while they'd been talking, and immediately decided not to bring it up. The last thing she wanted was to give Lanie even more ammunition.

"Lanie, stop," she said, laughing. "I have a boyfriend, remember?"

"And?" said Lanie. "You don't even like Josh that much. Sometimes I think you only keep him around to put a buffer between yourself and Castle."

"That's not true!" Beckett snapped, though she felt her stomach squirm with guilt at her own words. Lanie hadn't been that far off the mark. Things between her and Josh had cooled considerably over the last few weeks. They saw each other so little, and whenever they did manage to find time to spend together these days, it was primarily just for sex. That was why she'd tried to organize for them to spend a whole day together this week, to try and relight the fire as it were. And then this case had come up, and it was like the straw that broke the camel's back.

They'd had the worst fight of their entire relationship, spanning from their frustrations at each other's unpredictable work hours, to how he hated the way she was so closed-off, to the time she'd once caught him flirting with one of the nurses at work, to the way they never did anything anymore, didn't even really talk the way they'd used to. It was when he accused her of avoiding his calls that the inevitable happened, and the subject of Castle got dragged into it as well.

Josh said that she spent too much time with Castle; that she was pushing him away, shutting him out, and it wasn't fair. He told her that he simply didn't understand why she felt the need to spend practically every waking minute with the writer. He'd asked her to explain it to him, but she couldn't.

She couldn't even explain to herself the intricacies of her relationship with Castle. There weren't words to describe it. All she knew was that now when he wasn't there at the precinct, it felt like there was something missing, and whenever things got too much for her she knew she could look around and he'd always be there by her side. She knew it was selfish of her to want him around all the time, but she just couldn't help it. She knew if ever she needed help she only had to ask him, and he'd move heaven and earth for her. She knew that if it ever came down to a choice between Josh and Castle that her writer would win out. She simply couldn't fathom her life without him in it in some capacity. There were so many things she knew about Castle, and one thing she didn't. She didn't know _why_. And if she wasn't sure exactly what Castle meant to her, she could hardly expect Josh to understand.

It had all ended with her storming out of his apartment telling Josh they'd talk about it when she got home. And while he'd been texting her constantly since she'd been here with apology after apology, she knew their relationship was hanging by a thread.

'It _is_ true," said Lanie, firmly. "I can count on one hand the amount of times I've seen you and Josh together."

"He's busy," said Beckett, defensively, "And so am I. It's hard to find time."

"And yet you have time for movies and coffees and dinners with Castle at least twice a week," said Lanie.

"That's because he's always already there, it's not so I can avoid Josh!"

"Go on denying it if makes you feel better, but don't think you're fooling anybody," said Lanie, firmly.

This was not the first time Beckett had known Lanie to point out uncomfortable truths about her love-life (or in most cases, lack of it) but it never seemed to become any less irritating to her. And her best friend had an annoying habit of giving voice to things that she herself had been thinking, albeit in the back of her mind.

Why was it that whenever she sought company for the evening that it was always Castle and never Josh who instantly sprang to mind? Was it simply because he was always around, or because it was just so easy with him? She didn't have to pretend to be happy when she wasn't, or try to put a tough case out of her mind when it was all she could think about. She didn't have to play the part of the dutiful girlfriend; she could be whatever she felt like, and he'd always treat her exactly the same.

She remembered when they'd gone to see 'Forbidden Planet' together and they'd had such a good time. And even better was the warm feeling that spread right through her when she'd found out from Alexis later that he'd already seen it a million times, practically knew the script off by heart, and had pretended he hadn't just for the excuse to spend time with her.

She'd decided not to tell him that he'd been caught in the lie. It was kind of nice to know that he valued the time they spent together so highly, and in fact, she never had as much fun with anyone as she did with her partner. But she couldn't tell all this to Lanie, because she already knew what she would say.

Break up with Josh. Be with Castle. It sounded so simple, but it wasn't.

There was a knock on the door. Grateful for the excuse to end her conversation with Lanie, she quickly said her goodbyes and shut her phone. Still distracted by her best friend's words, she neglected to check the peephole as she went to open the door; an oversight she soon came to regret.

* * *

><p>Across town at the CBI, Jane lay on his couch, still ruminating over his discussion with Castle. Dimly, he could hear the vacuum from the night cleaners humming a floor or two below, but other than that, there was silence.<p>

The clock on the wall told him that it was nearly eleven, and common sense was urging him that it was probably time to go home. But he had no inclination to go back to his depressingly empty apartment tonight. Why bother driving all the way there just to be greeted with darkness and loneliness when he had both those things in ample supply right here, without the need for him to go anywhere?

He pulled himself up and off the couch, intending to relocate to the attic. It was much less likely that he would be discovered up there if one of the others decided to come in early tomorrow, and he wasn't quite ready for the entire team to be made aware of his bizarre sleeping habits, Beckett especially. She and Lisbon had both suffered hardships in life and coped with them remarkably well, from what he could see. People often sympathized with him when they heard his story, but his admiration was all for the two cops, who didn't simply let the misery consume them but pushed themselves to carry on.

He couldn't imagine Detective Beckett curled up on a couch at the office, because she was afraid to sleep at home, or pulling away from her friends and family, shutting herself off from them and instead turning to the demons of her past for companionship, like he did. No, she was clearly a much stronger person than him.

And as for Lisbon, there was no need to reiterate the depths of her strength, for she not only had her own problems to overcome, she had also shouldered many of his. It was too late to keep her from seeing just how weak he was, she already knew all about the fraud he had once been and the screw-up he was now. And for some reason, some incomprehensible reason, she still wanted to know him, to be there for him, to help him rebuild his life.

She could have died today. If it hadn't been for Castle's quick thinking, in all likelihood, she would have. "Think about that," Castle had said to him. Well, hours had now passed since their talk and indeed, he had been able to think about nothing else. He'd tried to picture his life without Lisbon in it, and he didn't like the image he saw.

He saw an empty office, an empty chair next to him in the interrogation room. He imagined making some kind of witty comment and not hearing her quiet chuckle, or the familiar angry tirade he always copped after getting carried away with a plan again. He thought about Red John slipping through his fingers once more, without her there to help him pick up the pieces for the umpteenth time and start again.

Every day when he woke up, he told himself that this would be the day that it all finally came together, and he would find the serial killer. Some days it was the only way he could motivate himself to get out of bed.

Realistically, he knew it could be weeks, months, even years until the moment came. He knew it was entirely possible that he might spend the rest of his miserable life hunting down Red John, and determined as he was to face him alone when it finally did happen, the prospect of searching alone for such a long time was not inviting.

Having Lisbon around, teasing her and bickering with her, got him through the agonising wait between breaks in the case. Giving him something to focus on in the meantime kept him going through every frustrating day. He couldn't lose his mind completely if he was busy thinking up fun new ways of annoying her, or thinking about an expensive gift he could buy her that would embarrass her, but make her happy at the same time. There were even the rare moments when Red John was driven completely out of his mind, like when he and Lisbon had danced at the school reunion, and the only thing worth noticing was how good she had felt in his arms, and how content she'd seemed with being there.

Catching Red John was his top priority, his reason for living, but it was a hard road to vengeance, and if it weren't for Lisbon, he doubted he'd have survived it this long.

Up in the attic, he sat down on his makeshift bed, on which the moonlight cast an eerie silvery glow. Another night at the CBI, another night alone.

* * *

><p>Castle wasn't sure which dropped faster when the door opened, his jaw, his stomach, or the two champagne flutes he held in his right hand. Thank God the hall was thickly carpeted so they simply bounced on the floor without shattering. Not that he'd have cared in the slightest if the damn things had been obliterated by the fall, not with Kate Beckett standing before him in nothing but a robe.<p>

The last time he'd seen her in a state of undress like this had been just after Scott Dunn had blown up her apartment and she'd been forced to take shelter in the tub. What with being beside himself with worry, and then telling her in great detail about the way he'd kicked down the door to get to her, suffice it to say that there hadn't really been an opportunity to enjoy the view.

Not this time.

His eyes travelled slowly upwards, from her long, long legs, to the gap that showed off a tantalising glimpse of collarbone, to her damp hair that was just beginning to curl at the ends as it started to dry. Tonight, there was nothing to stop him from drinking in every inch of her. He had all the time in the world. Slowly, slowly his gaze travelled on. It followed the curve of her neck, her jawline, and eventually came to rest on her beautiful eyes, which were narrowed, and blazing with fury. Oops.

"Castle," she said in that icily calm tone that always meant danger. "What the hell are you doing?"

The question stumped him for a moment. He knew he'd originally come here with a purpose, but damned if he could remember what it was now. He was vaguely aware of something bulky under his left arm, and when he eventually managed to tear his eyes away from his gorgeous partner, discovered it to be a bottle of champagne. He flicked a glance at the glasses still on the floor, and put two and two together.

"I was thinking," he said, wondering if it was just his imagination or if his voice did sound a little higher than usual. "Since we never got to have a drink together last night, we might make up for it now." He accompanied the request with his best smile, and was relieved to see the anger in her eyes lessen ever so slightly.

She gestured to the bottle. "That's good stuff. Expensive. How much did you spend on that?"

"Not a penny," he said, gleefully. "Dean the concierge is a fan."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course he is," she said.

He smirked. "Oh, not a fan of me," he said. "Of you. Seems he's rather taken with you Detective. He asked me to pass on his compliments." He held the bottle out to her. "This stuff probably cost him half his week's paycheque and I'd hate to see it go to waste. Shall we crack it open?"

She continued to regard him sternly for a minute, while he said a quick prayer to every heavenly body he could think of that she wouldn't say no, and then a smile appeared on her face.

"Give me a minute," she said, making to close the door.

He caught it just before it closed. "Don't feel you have to get dressed on my account Beckett," he said, teasingly. "You had a long day, you should be comfortable."

"That's very generous of you, Castle," she said, with a small smile. "But it isn't going to make feel comfortable if you're going to spend the whole time undressing me with your eyes like you have for the last few minutes."

"If it helps, I could get naked too," he offered, with a wink, and was pleased to see her cheeks flush scarlet. He knew she was picturing it, despite herself, he could tell by the way she refused to meet his gaze. He smirked to himself, as she attempted to reign herself in.

"Pass," she said, with a reasonable stab at casualness. "Be back in a minute." And the door was closed firmly in his face. He muffled a laugh. Try though she might, she couldn't deny that she had been thinking naughty thoughts about him just then; it had been written all over her face. Score one for Castle.

There was silence for a minute, and then a soft thud from the other side of the door. He was confused about the source of it for a moment until he noticed that the light coming through the crack under the door had suddenly been obscured. Then he understood. She'd taken off the robe, the tease, and let it fall to the floor.

He let out a deep groan of disappointment and wished, not for the first time in his life, that he had X-Ray vision. It was infuriating to know that only a few inches of wood were stopping him from going and getting his hands on that silky skin he'd been dreaming about for months, and refreshing his memory of just how good her lips had tasted. So near, and yet so far.

He heard her low chuckle and realised with a jolt, just how much she was enjoying this, making him suffer. He should be used to it by now, he thought ruefully. Ever since the day he'd met her, she'd been steadily driving him crazy with longing, from the way she smiled, to the way she sauntered around to crime scene in those six-inch heels, to the way she interviewed suspects and always got that determined gleam in her eyes when about to go in for the kill.

The door opened once again, and she'd changed into jeans and a simple white T-shirt. Dressed up or down, to him, she was perfection personified. He must have stood there just a fraction too long, for she let out an impatient sigh, and grabbed the champagne and glasses away from him. She turned on her heel and walked back into the room, with him trailing along behind her.

* * *

><p>As usual, sleep seemed to be eluding Jane tonight, so after an hour's worth of tossing and turning he gave up on the idea, and sat down on the single chair looking out on the Sacramento skyline.<p>

There were still hours to go before daybreak, so everything was still pitch-black. He rummaged around on the floor for the flashlight Lisbon had given him last week. She'd said it was an extra one she'd found at home, but he had noticed later that it still had the price tag attached to it.

To most people, such a small gesture would go relatively unnoticed, but he knew better. She'd been saying for months that he shouldn't spend so much time up in his fortress of solitude; he knew she worried that he was pulling back from her and the team. He also knew the gift had been as much for _her_ benefit as his; she didn't like the idea of him sitting up here for hours in the darkness, and he figured it made her feel better to know he now had a light source if he wanted one.

He had been grateful for her efforts, and in repayment, accepted her usually rather feeble excuses to come inside and check on him without question. She was the only one who had ever visited him in the attic; the others had never been up here, and he didn't really want them to anyway. But he was becoming quite used to Lisbon knocking on the door a couple of times a day under some pretence or other, even kind of liked it sometimes, if he were honest with himself. It was good to know that she still cared, no matter how badly he treated her.

But would this still be the case after today? Even though he knew the Vasser incident had not been in any way his fault, he did feel a certain sense of responsibility. He should have been there. There was no getting around it. He'd screwed up. She was probably wondering now whether he cared anything for her at all, and whether she should even still trust him. As her partner, and her friend he owed her much more than what he was giving her right now. Castle had been right.

Apologies had never been a strong point of his, but he did feel he should at least try to make amends for his mistake. And he knew exactly what to do.

He clicked on the flashlight and then ripped a fresh page out of his notebook.

* * *

><p>An hour later, the bottle of champagne was three-quarters empty, and Castle and Beckett were sitting comfortably on the couch, with a plate of food between them that Castle had had sent up from room service. They'd made an unspoken agreement not to talk about the case or Jerry Tyson, and so instead chatted about things like Castle's latest visit to the 'Heat Wave' set, and how Natalie Rhodes had thrown a diva-grade tantrum on her first day back from being in rehab and held production up for an entire day. Apparently she'd embraced a new diet during her treatment and was angry with the catering staff for not providing any vegan meals.<p>

"-and then the next day, the caterers went to all the trouble of making up something especially for her, and she told them she didn't want it, because she was back to eating meat again," said Castle, chuckling.

Beckett thought back to Natalie's memorable visit to the 12th while preparing for her role. She had certainly struck her as being a little high-maintenance, and it would be a long while before she forgot the way the actress had began to walk, talk and dress like her, allegedly in order to understand her better. Though she had found her actress clone somewhat unnerving, Castle hadn't seemed to raise any objections, and had been perfectly happy to kiss Natalie in the elevator. She'd been surprised at the pang in her stomach when she'd witnessed that, and even more surprised when Natalie had informed her the next day that when she'd propositioned Castle, he had turned her down.

She still didn't understand why he had done that; when she asked he'd said only that it was 'too meta.' But she couldn't pretend that she hadn't been pleased, and a little relieved, to hear it. It was odd. Though she wasn't sure about her own feelings concerning him, she knew for certain that she didn't want anyone else to have him either.

He poured himself another drink, and topped hers off too, with a smile.

"This is nice," he said.

She shrugged. "It's okay I guess," she said. "But I don't think it was worth what it cost. It doesn't taste that different to the cheap stuff."

He chuckled. "I didn't mean the champagne," he said. "I meant this… you and me spending time together."

"What are you talking about?" she said, reaching for a strawberry. "We've been together all day yesterday, and today."

"Sure," he said. "But we haven't spent any time just the two of us since we've been here."

"This isn't a vacation Castle. We're here to work, we've been busy."

"Yeah, you and Jane sure looked 'busy' this morning, having your coffee, all nice and cosy," he said, spitefully. "Funny that."

She raised an eyebrow. "Since when do I need your permission to have a coffee with a friend?" she asked.

She recalled having almost this exact conversation with Josh a few days ago, except of course, they'd been talking about Castle in that instance. She felt a growing sense of annoyance; why was it that everybody else seemed to think they knew what was best for her better than she did? If it wasn't Lanie telling her to dump Josh, it was Josh telling her to get rid of Castle, and now Castle telling her to get rid of Jane. She wished everyone would just keep their opinions to themselves.

"Friend?" scoffed Castle now. "That was fast."

"Was it?" she countered. "Because I seem to recall the first day here, you and Jane were getting on pretty well."

He had the decency to look ashamed of himself for a moment. "Yeah, well…things changed," he said.

"As in, I started spending time with him," she said.

He shrugged.

She rolled her eyes. "You know what this is?" she asked. "This is the thing with Conrad all over again. One minute you were singing his praises, but the second he started hanging out with me it was like you were on a mission to take him down. You said it was because you didn't want me to spend time with another writer, but Jane's not another writer, is he? So what's the excuse this time?"

He said nothing, but his gaze was boring into hers now, almost pleadingly.

"I told you," he said, so quietly that she almost missed it. "I want you all to myself."

That was one of the things he sometimes said that made her heart flip over in her chest, and made her want to both hug him and hit him in the exact same moment.

She took a deep, calming breath. "Let's get something straight," she said. "I value your opinions very much Castle, but you do not have the right to tell me what I can and can't do. I am not yours to claim, and you don't dictate my life in any shape or form."

He chuckled humourlessly at this pronouncement. "You think I don't know that already?" he asked. "I would never dream of trying to tell you what to do, Beckett." He paused. "But it doesn't mean I have to like it."

An uncomfortable silence fell, which was only broken when her cell phone chirped. Another text message from Josh, comprising only four words.

_"We need to talk._"

She read it three times, to allow it to fully sink in to her mind. In her experience, those four words were never followed by anything good. If she had to guess, the end of her relationship was imminent. Well, she'd known this was coming sooner or later.

She put her phone away again, and took another gulp of champagne.

"Something wrong?" asked Castle, who had been watching her intently.

"It's Josh," she said.

"Oh."

"He wants to talk." There was no point lying about it, he'd find out soon enough anyway.

He winced. "I'm sorry," he said.

"Are you?"

He ignored this. "It might not mean what you think it means," he suggested, reasonably. "Maybe he just wants to see you. Maybe he misses you," he added, trying but failing to conceal his distaste at the concept.

She scoffed. "Castle when has anyone ever said that to you, and it turned out to be good news?" she asked, sarcastically.

She'd expected him to grin, laugh off the question, but he didn't do either of those things. "Once," he said seriously. "Almost eighteen years ago, Meredith told me we needed to talk. And then nine months later, Alexis was born."

She smiled.

"Weren't you scared?" she asked him.

"Of course I was," he said. "I was terrified that I wasn't going to do it right, and that I'd be a terrible father. And then when they put my baby girl in my arms for the first time, all the fear suddenly went away." He smiled reminiscently at the memory. "The dreaded 'we need to talk' turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me."

She supposed it was natural to be nervous when expecting a child, but she just couldn't picture Castle as a bad father. He adored his daughter, and lit up whenever he talked about her, and all the places he'd used to take her when she was small. It was going to hit him hard when Alexis left for college; it had just been the two of them (and Martha) for so long, she didn't know what he was going to do with himself.

"Somehow, I don't think things are going to work out quite so well for me," she said.

He took her hand, rubbing his thumb back and forth over the back of it. "You'll be OK," he said reassuringly. "Either way, you come out a winner."

"How do you figure that?" she asked.

"Well, either it's something good and everything will be fine, or you end up breaking up, and won't have to waste any more time on an idiot."

"Josh is not an idiot," she said. "He's a cardiologist."

He smiled. "I don't care if he's a cardiologist, neurosurgeon, Nobel Prize winner, and Mensa member all rolled into one, if he's stupid enough to let _you_ go, he's an idiot."

That was one of her very favourite things about Castle. No matter how down she was feeling, no matter how worthless, one sentence from him could make her feel like she could move mountains. Warmth flowed right through her and suddenly her looming conversation with Josh became a lot lighter on her mind.

"Thanks, Castle," she said.

"Hey, what are partners for?" he said lightly, and she wondered if she'd imagined the flash of pain in his eyes at the word 'partners.'

"More than partners," she corrected him, and he glanced up in confusion.

"What?"

"Friends."

He dropped his gaze again, and she thought she felt him squeeze her hand for just a moment.

"Friends," he repeated. "Of course. That's what we are."

He seemed sad, disappointed. "Are you OK?" she asked him.

He smiled, but she could tell he was forcing it; it didn't reach his eyes like it normally did.

"I'm fine," he said. "But it's getting late. I should go, let you get some sleep." He abruptly let go of her hand and got up from the couch, collecting the empty champagne bottle, plate, and glasses. She noticed that he was determinedly not looking at her as he did this. What had she said? What had she done wrong? She was afraid to ask; for fear that the answer might be something she wasn't ready for.

She followed him to the door, and opened it for him, as his hands were full. He stepped through it with a muttered word of thanks, and made to walk off down the hall, but changing his mind, turned to face her again.

"Good luck with Josh," he said.

"I think I might postpone it until we get home," she said. "I'm not sure that the phone is appropriate for the conversation we're going to have."

He nodded. "Fair enough."

"Until tomorrow?" she asked, and a real smile, albeit a small one appeared this time.

"Goodnight Kate," he said, simply.

"Night, Rick."

She closed the door after him, thinking hard. He'd once said that he preferred 'until tomorrow' to 'goodnight.' So why after all these years was he reverting to the standard goodbye? That wasn't like him. He'd said 'until tomorrow' was more hopeful. What exactly had he been hoping for? And why the sudden change?

* * *

><p>Lisbon awoke early the next morning, once again, feeling torn. She was eager to get to the office to see if their search had yielded any results, but not in any hurry to experience the next chapter of Jane and Detective Beckett's private love-fest. She rifled through her closet for something to wear, and her hand fell upon a deep green sweater, pushed to the side of the rail.<p>

The last time she had worn it, Jane had complimented her on it, saying it had brought out her eyes. Of course, that had been before Detective Beckett the cop/supermodel had entered their lives. She could have walked into the CBI in an evening gown now, and she doubted that he would so much as glance up.

But for some reason, she pulled the sweater from its hanger anyway. Perhaps if she put on a little extra makeup than usual, and spent a few more minutes on her hair…

She was _not_ dressing up for Jane, she told herself firmly as she left her apartment. This was not a pathetic attempt to win her consultant's attention back away from Beckett. She would never, _ever_ stoop that low. Right?

The problem was, she'd never been particularly good at lying, not even to herself. The way she'd been shunted to the side over the past couple of days had hurt her more than she cared to admit, it had made her question their partnership and everything about it. And it still bothered her that he hadn't even deigned to open his eyes last night when she'd said goodbye.

He was determined to push her away, and up until this point she had been confident that she would not let him. But maybe it was time to accept that she simply didn't have the influence over him that she'd thought she did, that she was fooling herself by hoping that he could see her as anything but a stepping-stone to Red John.

She arrived at CBI and was surprised to find she was not the first one in. Van Pelt was already bent over her computer, presumably compiling the results of their search, and Castle was in the breakroom holding a cup of coffee. Even more surprisingly, he seemed to be alone. Nobody else from the NYPD was anywhere to be seen.

The author seemed somewhat morose this morning, looking down at his cup as though he were not really seeing it, and either not hearing or simply ignoring her soft call of greeting. She was tempted for a moment to go over and try to find out what was wrong, but restrained herself. The last thing she needed was to be burdened with someone else's problems. Besides, Castle was sure to cheer up when Beckett arrived. It was kind of sweet the way his whole demeanour seemed to lighten whenever his partner stepped into the room, it was like he cast off whatever was bothering him and focused on her alone.

Unfortunately, she didn't have a lot of time to dwell on this, with her own wayward partner to locate. His car was already parked outside so he had to be in the building somewhere, and she had a feeling she knew where he might be.

She ascended the staircase and soon found herself standing outside the door to Jane's attic hideaway. She knocked, and waited but received no response. She knocked again, and when she again didn't get an answer, she stepped inside.

Jane was lying on the bed, dozing, still in the same clothes he'd been wearing the previous day. It was clear that he'd spent the night here. A floorboard creaked under her foot, and the noise roused him. He sat up slowly, blinking in the bright light streaming in through the window.

"You slept here again," she said. It wasn't a question.

He yawned. "I was thinking," he said, evasively.

"And you couldn't do that at your place?" she asked.

"Now Lisbon, judge not, lest ye be judged."

She shook her head, and surveyed his dishevelled state, his rumpled clothes, messy hair, and slightly bloodshot eyes. "You look like crap."

"Nothing like a kind word from a friend to start off the day on the right note," he said, sarcastically. "And with that in mind, _you_ look…well," he trailed off, and swallowed. "You look gorgeous today," he finished, with a big smile. "Have you done something to your hair?"

She forced back a smile of her own, hoping that her pleasure at the compliment wasn't showing on her face. Over her dead body was he going to find out how much his opinion had factored into her choice of wardrobe today. He'd never let her hear the end of it if he knew.

"No," she lied, and to her relief, he accepted it. "Come on, you need to get your ass into gear. Everyone's going to be here soon."

He stood up from the bed, and stretched. "I'm pretty sure I've got a spare suit around here somewhere," he said.

"Good," she said. "Get yourself together. I want you downstairs in twenty minutes."

Another yawn. "Yes ma'am." He paused. "I made you something," he said, walking over to the chair and removed something small from the seat.

"It's not another frog, is it?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Not exactly." He dropped the object into her palm. It was light, and indeed made of paper, but as she looked down, expecting to see another origami amphibian, but instead her eyes fell upon something completely different, a delicately folded rose.

In spite of herself, she gazed transfixed at the little flower, marvelling at the painstaking work and detail that had gone into it. It must have taken him hours to make.

"This is what you were doing all night instead of sleeping?" she said, finally. "Jane, it's beautiful, but why did you give this to me?"

"Think of it as an apology," he said. "For yesterday."

"You didn't do anything wrong," she said.

"Exactly," he agreed. "I didn't do _anything_, because I wasn't there when I should have been."

"It's OK."

"No it isn't," he said. "I let you down. Again. I need you to be able to trust me, and I'm going to try harder from now on."

She smiled. Of course, she had learned long ago not to take everything Patrick Jane said at face value, but she would like to think that he was being sincere. And at least this proved that somewhere deep down; she meant something to him after all. It was a small step, but anything was better than nothing at this point.

"Glad to hear it Jane," she said. "Now hurry up. We've got a murderer to catch."

* * *

><p><strong>I won't lie, I've been feeling distinctly uninspired of late, and I think it shows in this chapter. But it's been months, and still the alerts keep coming (thanks, by the way) so I thought I should post something. <strong>


	8. Game Changers

**So in this chapter, we have a little case progression and some obligatory fluff, which I hope you'll enjoy.**

**A shout out goes to Donnamour1969, whose review to the last one had a big influence on this chapter.**

**Pairings are the obvious and rating is T.**

**I own nothing recognisable.**

* * *

><p>It dawned on Castle after he'd finally stopped sulking over his coffee, that he had been incredibly rude to Lisbon just now. After all, it was hardly her fault that he couldn't handle the idea of being forever in the friend zone with regards to the woman he loved. He hated himself for being so petty and childish. He was an adult, a grown man who had experienced rejection before; he should really be better equipped to deal with it by now.<p>

There was something about being rejected by _her_ however, that made it a doubly bitter pill to swallow. He just couldn't understand how he could possibly love her so much, and offer up so much of himself to her, and it still was not enough.

He was so tired of this now. For three years they had been dancing around each other, playing the same games. He was tired of having to claw his way back when she pushed him away, tired of doing everything in his power to show her that he was crazy about her, and every time being met with her stubborn refusal to acknowledge it. And worst of all, he hated the knowledge that he'd never be able to escape. Even though he sometimes thought it would be kinder to himself just to give up on her for good, he knew it was impossible. She was holding all the cards now, they both knew he'd never willingly leave her side; that at a single word from her, he'd come running back.

He knew that it was not intentional; she was not cruel or malicious, quite the opposite in fact, but it didn't make it any easier to give so much and get so little in return.

But that was no excuse for bringing his apathy over the whole thing into the workplace, and for being unable to be civil when addressed by an innocent bystander. He owed Lisbon an apology.

He left the breakroom and crossed the bullpen where Agent Van Pelt was sitting at her computer busily pressing keys and clicking the mouse, to Lisbon's office. To his surprise, it was empty. He had always known her to be in her office at this time of the morning,

He walked back over to Van Pelt. He hadn't had much opportunity to get to know the rest of Lisbon's team up until this point, what with everyone being so busy and he and Beckett so far spending most of their time with Jane and Lisbon herself. From the brief conversation he'd had with her on the first day, Van Pelt had struck him as a pleasant, but competent agent, who hopefully might be able to garner some insight as to her boss's current whereabouts.

"How's it coming?" he asked, when he reached her.

She smiled pleasantly at him. "Almost done," she said. "Another five minutes and it'll have gone through the whole database."

"What are you doing now?" he asked.

"I'm just compiling and summarizing all the results so far," she said.

"You seem to be quite the computer whiz Agent Van Pelt."

She shrugged. "I'm always the one who gets lumped with following the paper trails and doing the digging. Three years here and I'm still the rookie." She chuckled. "And by the way, you can call me Grace if you like."

"Does anyone else call you by your first name?"

"They all do, sometimes," she said. "Mostly Jane though, and Rigsby." She looked uncomfortable at the mention of him, and though curious to know why, Castle didn't ask questions.

"I've read a few of your books," she said, once the tense moment had passed. "Cho lent them to me. They're really good."

He smiled his thanks. "And is Agent Cho a fan?" he asked. "It's kind of hard to tell."

She laughed a little. "Yes it is," she agreed. "But every time you release a new book, he's reading it at work within a few days, so if I had to bet I'd say he does like your work. Just don't expect him to beg you for a signature or anything."

He chuckled. "Grace, would you know where Lisbon is?" he asked. "I wanted to talk to her about something, and she's not in her office."

"She's probably upstairs with Jane," she said, tapping a few more keys. "He likes to lurk in the attic sometimes. She's always trying to get him to come down."

"Why?" he asked, curiously.

She shrugged. "No idea. None of us have a clue what he does up there all day. But Lisbon worries about him if he stays in the attic too long. She tries to hide it, but she does."

"Perhaps you should say something," he suggested, but she shook her head.

"Jane and Lisbon are a law unto themselves," she said. "They've both been through a lot. They're pretty closed-off about it, but anyone can see it if they know them well enough." She paused. "Jane doesn't trust easily, but I know he tells Lisbon things that he won't tell anyone else."

Castle wondered just how much Van Pelt had observed about her boss and the consultant over the years, how much she had taken in just by watching and listening. Were they aware of what she knew, or had guessed, about their relationship?

"How do you know?" he asked.

"I can see it," she said. "The way they look at each other sometimes, with these long meaningful glances like they know something the rest of us don't."

"Does that bother you?"

"No, not at all. They're my friends, but at the end of the day, she's also my boss and there's only so hard that I can push without causing problems. But I know they're both lonely, and if they only feel comfortable talking to each other, I'm not about to screw it up for them."

At that moment, Agent Lisbon materialised from around a corner. She smiled at the sight of both of them.

"Morning," she said.

"Good morning Agent Lisbon," said Castle, as charmingly as possible and accompanied it with a wide smile, so as to start making up for his rudeness from before.

"Morning boss," Van Pelt greeted her. "Search results are nearly ready."

"Great," said Lisbon. "I'll be in my office, come get me when you're done."

Van Pelt agreed, and then Lisbon continued on her way. Castle watched her progress with mild surprise. She'd seemed tense and harried when she arrived this morning, and now her mood seemed to have improved significantly. She also appeared a lot more relaxed now. What had she and Jane been doing up there?

Van Pelt seemed to be thinking along the same lines, raising her eyebrows slightly, as Lisbon disappeared into her office.

"Huh," she said under her breath.

"What?" asked Castle.

"She's smiling," said Van Pelt. "Normally she comes down from the attic more pissed off than when she went up there."

"Well this a good thing then, right?" he asked.

Van Pelt shook her head. "God knows," she said. "I'll never understand those two."

* * *

><p>Castle excused himself and then tapped on Lisbon's door. She was sitting in her chair, examining something in her hand. He couldn't make out exactly what it was, but it was small, and made of paper. At the sound of the knock, she hastily shoved the object out of sight.<p>

"Hey," he greeted her.

Her lips curved up into a smirk. "Oh hey Castle," she said airily. "Talking to me now, are you?"

He cringed. "Sorry about that," he said. She didn't seem angry, in fact she chuckled as she answered him.

"Bust-up with Beckett, I bet," she said knowledgeably. "Am I right?"

He sighed. "How could you tell?"

"You have that look on your face," she said, not unkindly. "The one that looks like somebody just kicked your dog. Rigsby's had it ever since he and Van Pelt broke up."

"They dated?" he asked, Van Pelt's reticence at discussing her colleague now making much more sense.

She looked alarmed. "Once," she said. "But it was a while ago now, and I shouldn't have brought it up."

He grinned, in an attempt to put her at ease. This was obviously a sore point for her. "Consider this a cone of silence," he said, gesturing around the office. "Not a word of this conversation leaves this room."

"It had better not," she said firmly, but the corner of her mouth twitched, like she was trying not to smile.

It occurred to him now as they sat across the table from each other that he'd never really looked at her properly since they'd met. It was quite common these days for him to develop a kind of tunnel vision where women were concerned. He seemed to have become blind to the beauty of other women, particularly when Beckett was around, to whom, in his mind, nobody could ever compare. So he'd never noticed before how sleek and shiny Lisbon's hair was, nor had he fully appreciated the deep, emerald green of her eyes, made obvious today by the way they popped against her sweater. She was in fact, quite stunning, and certainly would have been his type, back in the day.

Now however, there was only her, only Kate.

"Have you ever told her how you feel?" asked Lisbon, abruptly, shaking him out of his ruminations. She was watching him intently, and he wondered if she knew what he was thinking about. She'd been working with a mentalist for seven years; surely she'd have picked up on a few things by now.

"We don't talk about stuff like that," he said, shortly, which was indeed true. Anytime anything had happened that might have been a catalyst for change in their relationship it was pointedly ignored by Beckett, and driven by his great fear of losing her, he reluctantly followed her lead.

"Is that her idea, or yours?" asked Lisbon, shrewdly, once again, echoing his thoughts so accurately it kind of creeped him out.

"Hers," he grunted. "I'd tell her every day if she'd let me. Sometimes I just feel like screaming it out at the top of my lungs in the middle of the precinct, or at a crime scene just to make her listen, so she can't sweep it under the carpet anymore." He paused, drawing in a deep breath. "But I can't do that to her. I couldn't hurt her like that."

"But it's hurting you," she observed.

"It's more than that," he said, honestly, casting around for words strong enough to describe it. "It's agony. Every day we miss a million more chances, and it gets so much harder to keep my mouth shut. Every day we go through the same routine and I hope for a different result. It's the definition of insanity." He gave a humourless chuckle. "I don't know how much longer I can keep this up. It's _killing_ me," he concluded emphatically.

It felt good to talk about it, to siphon off some of his frustrations to somebody other than his mother, for once. It was cathartic to be able to speak freely to somebody who was right out of the situation, without fear of consequence.

Lisbon raised an eyebrow. "You don't think you're being just a little melodramatic?" she asked.

"Writer," he said dully. "Comes with the territory."

She smiled at him now. "You're a good man, Castle," she said. "A girl could do a whole lot worse than you."

"You're not going to tell Beckett what I said, are you?" he asked, nervously. "Because she'll throw me out of the 12th, use me for moving target practice, have my car impounded…" he trailed off as he considered all manner of other frightening possibilities of things Beckett might do to him if she ever found out he'd been talking about her behind her back.

She shook her head. "Cone of silence, remember?"

He smiled back at her, relieved. "OK, your turn," he said.

"My turn?" She seemed taken aback.

"Well you made me divulge a deep, dark secret-"

She snorted, cutting him off. "Let's be honest," she said. "It was never that much of a secret. And I thought _Jane_ didn't understand the meaning of subtlety…"

He ignored this. "So now I get to ask you a question," he said his smile widening as he artfully shifted the spotlight off himself and onto her. "What was it that you hid from me when I knocked?"

She flushed slightly. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said.

"Oh yes you do," he said. "It was in your hand, and it was small, and white…"

"OK, OK," she said, opened a drawer, and shamefacedly shoved the little object across the desk at him, for some reason with her eyes fixed on the bullpen outside.

"Didn't pick you for the origami type," he said, as he picked up the flower and held it up so he could see it properly.

"I'm not," she admitted. "Jane made it. He seems to think it constitutes an apology."

"Which you accepted," he pointed out. She said nothing, but took the flower back and put it away again.

"So why the secrecy?" he asked.

"He doesn't know I sometimes keep them," she said, flushing deeper now. "Or at least I don't think he does, and I'd rather keep it that way."

"Them?" he repeated. "Does he do this often?"

"Oh yeah, he's always buying me pointless gifts," she said. "It's such a waste of money, but he never listens to me when I tell him to stop."

The mention of gifts stirred something in Castle's memory of the day they had arrived; they'd all been drinking coffee…

"Yes," he said. "Rigsby mentioned something about that. What kind of stuff does he buy for you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Well there was the emerald necklace and earrings in Nevada-" she began.

Castle raised his eyebrows.

"-then the pony." She pursed her lips, trying to think back. "And there was that ridiculously expensive restaurant he took me to in Napa in this fancy sports car he borrowed from a billionaire. And that couch over there as well," she said, jerking her thumb towards it.

"Why a couch?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes again. "No idea. I was so mad at him for that; I liked my old couch. He didn't even ask me first, I just walked into my office one day and there it was."

"And the pony?" he couldn't help asking. He remembered once he'd offered to buy Beckett a pony to get back in her good books after one of his many indiscretions. Jane it seemed had gone one better.

"A birthday present," she said. "And trying to find a home for it was hell, I'll tell you that." But she was smiling as she said it.

Rigsby had been right, Castle thought. Jane certainly did seem to have expensive taste in gifts where his boss was concerned. Kind of like himself, if he were honest, like the time he'd sent Beckett the red ball gown when they'd gone to the benefit, or the first-class seats on their recent trip to LA. When it came to their partners, he and Jane were obviously alike in thinking that no expense should be spared.

Lisbon sighed. "It's mostly all flashy stuff that I have no use for," she said. "But it's the simple things I like the best, like the punnets of strawberries and the little origami things he makes that I can keep without feeling guilty." She fished in the drawer again and pulled out another one, this time a small frog. "He gave me this one three years ago," she said. "He'd never shut up about it if he knew I still had it."

"Cone of silence?"

"You got it."

Castle smiled and shook his head. "You know what?" he said. "Tell me something about you."

"What?"

"It seems like whenever we talk, it's always about Beckett or Jane. I want to know something about _you_."

She smiled back at him. "There's not really a lot to know."

"Humour me," he said. "It doesn't have to be something big, just something not a lot of people know."

She thought about that for a moment, and then a grin spread across her face. "OK…not a lot of people know that I can play the bass guitar."

"Really?" He grinned. "That's kind of hot."

"I used to play in high school. The guidance counsellor told me I needed another extracurricular, so I took up guitar."

"Can you still play?"

"Don't know. I gave it up when I started at the academy. Didn't have time for it." She smirked. "OK, your turn. Tell me something about Richard Castle that can't be found in the gossip columns."

He grinned. "I make a mean omelette."

"Can't multi-millionaire authors afford to pay someone to cook for them?"

"Yes they can, but twelve year-olds with a Broadway queen for a mother can't," he quipped. "Every Sunday morning I used to make her breakfast…and then reheat it when she'd stumble into the kitchen around noon."

They both chuckled.

"And so came the birth of the Richard Castle Hangover Special. It's now become a favourite with both mother _and_ son."

A burst of laughter outside in the bullpen alerted them both to the fact that the rest of the team had arrived. Ryan, Esposito, Cho and Rigsby were grouped around Van Pelt's desk, chattering amongst themselves as they waited for the search to finish. Beckett sat at another desk, with her cell phone in her hand, presumably sending a text message. Jane appeared after a moment and greeted her, all the while scanning the bullpen, searching for something. His gaze travelled across the room and halted on the office.

Castle was surprised to see Jane shoot him a wide smile, as the last conversation they'd had hadn't exactly ended on the best of terms. After a minute however, the mystery was solved when he figured out that Jane was looking right past him, his eyes only for his partner, who was trying unsuccessfully not to notice. It didn't take long for her to give up the pretence and she met her consultant's gaze with a determinedly straight face. Undeterred, Castle saw Jane quickly wink at Lisbon before turning away again.

"I can see what Van Pelt meant about you guys and your long, meaningful glances," he said.

"Van Pelt's got a big mouth," Lisbon snapped.

"Doesn't mean she's not right," Castle countered. "So, you and Jane, what's the story?"

"There is no story."

"There's always a story," he said.

She sighed. "_We_" she emphasized the word, "do not have a story. _Jane_ has a story, that I am a pretty minor player in."

Castle saw Jane look their way again. "Are you sure about that?" he asked.

"He's got his whole life planned out around a single goal," she said. "And there isn't any room in it for me."

"Well, just do what I did with Beckett," he said, good-naturedly. "Force your way in."

"Trouble is, I'm afraid of what I'll find."

* * *

><p>What the hell were they doing in there?<p>

Jane had arrived downstairs changed and ready, to find Lisbon and Castle cloistered in her office, seemingly oblivious to the arrival of the rest of the team. Before, she'd been smiling, laughing, but now she looked as sombre as if she'd just received some very bad news. Any other day, this would be his cue to go into her office and see what was wrong with her, but today, something held him back.

This was unusual for him, usually there was nothing that could dissuade him from going wherever he liked, and doing whatever he pleased. Never before had he felt the need to respect Lisbon's privacy, barging in whenever he felt like it, no matter what she was doing, or whom she was with. But he'd promised he'd try harder to make their partnership work, which meant working on building trust.

But it was hard, so hard, to keep himself from going in there and finding out what they were talking about so intently. Luckily, he didn't have to stew over this for much longer as they rose and exited the office.

Castle opened the door for her (for some reason Jane's stomach gave a lurch) and they approached, chuckling at something.

"Maybe you should think about taking it up again," Castle said as they drew nearer.

"What?" asked Jane.

"Nothing," said Lisbon hurriedly, but he could see it in her eyes, it was not nothing. Castle drifted away from them to join Beckett.

"Seems like you two are getting on well," said Jane.

"Yeah, we are," said Lisbon. "We had a good chat. I even told him about what instrument I used to play in high school." She smiled at the stricken expression that suddenly appeared on Jane's face. The mystery of Lisbon's high-school musical prowess was one he'd been looking for an answer to for months. She'd ducked his every attempt to find out. What made Castle special enough to be worthy of receiving the privileged information?

"You told _him_?" he said, "Why?"

She shrugged. "He asked me to tell him something about myself," she said. "It was the first thing that came into my head." She seemed confused as to why this was such a big deal for him. Indeed, to most people, a throwaway fact like this wouldn't carry great importance, but Jane had always prided himself on being the one person who could discover the untapped secrets of Teresa Lisbon. It was a little disheartening to discover that any random person off the street could find out this same information, and with far less effort, by the sounds of it.

"But I've been trying to get that out of you for months," he protested.

She shook her head. "The only reason you keep guessing is because you know you'll eventually be right, like you're testing a hypothesis or something. You don't really care." She said all this very flatly, as though she'd come to this conclusion long ago. "It was nice to have someone take an interest in me as an actual person for once, rather than a science experiment. Come on, the search must be done by now."

She strode off towards Van Pelt, and he automatically followed. Was that really what she thought of him? He had always cared about her, always. Sure, he wasn't the greatest at showing it, and for her safety, nothing could ever come of it, but he'd always thought she knew. She understood him better than anyone else; surely she must have realised that even though he didn't go prancing around like Castle with his heart on his sleeve, it didn't mean he didn't care. He doubted any person could know someone as brave and self-sacrificing as Lisbon and not form an affection for her.

How could she not know that? Was she really so blind as to how special she was in general, and to him, specifically?

There was an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach as it occurred to him that she could have been feeling like this for years and, in true Lisbon fashion, had simply not said anything. The idea that she had spent all this time under such a grave misapprehension made him even more nauseous.

What was Castle doing anyway? Eager to find someone else to blame for his rude awakening, Jane seized on the writer. Why hadn't he spent the morning chasing after his own partner, like usual, rather then wasting his time trying to charm Jane's?

Because Lisbon would never go for a guy like Castle, right? Sure he was handsome…and charismatic…and rich…and famous, but Lisbon was far too refined and intelligent to be swayed by all that.

But then the face of someone else swam into his memory. Walter Mashburn. He had certainly taken a shine to Lisbon during the two cases he had been involved in and even though she'd resisted his advances at first, Jane had never been able to shake the suspicion that she had indeed spent a night with him after the second case was closed. It was something about the way her hair hadn't fallen quite as neatly as it normally did the next day, the glow in her cheeks, and that she'd been in an unusually good mood. The kind of good mood that only came from a great night beforehand.

Now he thought about it, the idea of Lisbon being attracted to Castle was becoming more and more likely. Professionally, she was as straight up as they came, but personally he'd always imagined her to prefer a little more spice. She liked a bit of adventure, Lisbon, and just a little bit of risk, and a murder mystery novelist slash amateur detective would fit the bill very nicely. And the fact that Castle would have to go back to New York soon enough would only sweeten the deal. She liked keeping her relationships brief and casual. It could easily happen. Nothing serious of course, but a little two-week fling wasn't far out of the realm of possibility.

Castle would show her a good time. He'd treat her right. She was single; he was single (if you ignored the part about him being in love with his partner.) It made sense.

It would be good for her, he told himself. She needed to get out more (and not least because it would then give her less time to pester him to do the same.) This was what he'd wanted. He wanted her to have a normal life, to be free and unencumbered with his various problems. She deserved it.

But…it was nice to have her around all the time, to know she'd be there at the drop of a hat if he asked her to. While he wouldn't go so far as to say he was the centre of her world, he was certainly pretty close to it, and he wasn't sure he liked the idea of competing for her attention with another man, even temporarily.

When he talked to Beckett about this a few days earlier, he may have seemed to be taking the moral high ground, but when it came right down to it he was a selfish man. He freely admitted it. He wasn't proud of it, but it was what it was. He might pretend to desire only what was in her best interests, but deep down, he knew what he _really_ wanted: her. And he also knew what he didn't want: anyone else to have her.

And Patrick Jane was not accustomed to not getting what he wanted. So he could keep on pretending to be OK with simply being her friend and always wanting more…or not.

And this time, he chose not.

But Lisbon was calling out for everyone now, the search finally being complete. He decided to put his concerns about her and Castle out of his mind for the time being. The sure-fire way to get in her bad books was unprofessionalism, and tying himself in knots about something that hadn't even happened yet was hardly the best approach to finding a murderer.

* * *

><p>"Looks like we hit the jackpot," Beckett announced to the team a few minutes later when they were all assembled around the whiteboard again on which had been attached four new photographs, two women and two men. "Four unsolved murders that fit our pattern, all in the last few years. This adds some serious weight to your theory Jane," she added.<p>

He nodded and smiled, but she was pleased that he restrained himself from gloating.

"How come nobody put this together sooner?" asked Esposito. "How many more people would have had to die before somebody caught this?"

Castle was thoughtfully examining the photo array. "Look at them all, Esposito," he said. "There's a mixture of genders, ages, races, appearances. This is totally outside the usual serial-killer parameters."

"What do you mean?" asked Van Pelt.

"Well, most serial killers have a distinctive style, and some kind of criteria for their choice of victim. This is all over the shop," Castle explained.

"Then how the hell are we supposed to catch this guy?" asked Lisbon. "We don't have any guidelines or clues."

"We're looking at this the wrong way," said Jane. He gestured to the photos of their three original victims. "These were all recent. Clean, professional kills. But these-" he gestured to the other four. "These came earlier, when he wasn't as experienced as he is now. He may have slipped up somewhere. We should try and get hold of some autopsy reports."

Beckett nodded. "Good idea. Agent Rigsby?"

She saw him start a little at being addressed directly by her. He shot a quick glance at Lisbon, who gave a tiny nod.

"On it," he said, reaching for his cell phone.

"Even if he did slip up, it's not going to help us much," said Ryan. "We don't have a sample to match it to. How are we going to prove anything?"

"We could get one," said Castle, thoughtfully.

"How?" asked Cho. "We don't even know where to start looking. The man's a ghost."

Suddenly, Castle stood up, his eyes shining. Beckett knew that look. He had an idea, probably a highly dangerous and slightly illegal one, knowing him.

"We don't need to look for him. We'll get him to come to us," he said.

Beckett raised an eyebrow. "Sure, we'll just issue him an invitation to tea and scones at the CBI building. He won't suspect a thing."

"He's a contract killer, right?" he said. "So there must be a way for people to get in touch with him. All we have to do is find out what that is, and then set up a fake hit."

Something clenched inside Beckett's chest. This plan sounded horribly familiar. The last time they'd tangled with a contract killer she had got much more than she had bargained for. And Castle had nearly paid the ultimate price. The memory of him with Coonan's gun at his back had given her nightmares for weeks afterwards.

Castle of course, noticed her discomfort, and his gaze softened as he looked at her. "I know what you're thinking," he said gently. "And this isn't going to be another Rathborne."

Ignoring the horror on Ryan and Esposito's faces, and the confusion on everyone else's, she met his eyes. "You don't know that, Castle." His hand twitched, like he wanted to reach over and hold hers, but she was glad he didn't. As much as she would have liked the comfort, she didn't want the whole room seeing just how distressed she was about this.

"It's a good idea," said Lisbon eventually, breaking the tense silence. "But it still doesn't help us find him."

"Easy," said Jane, smiling now. "Why don't we ask someone who already knows?" Beckett saw him catch her partner's eye across the room. "How much are you willing to bet that Mr Van Keil knows more about his wife's death then he's letting on?" he asked.

Castle grinned back. "I'd put my Ferrari on it," he said.

"You have a Ferrari?" asked Lisbon, with sudden interest. He nodded, and she looked impressed. Beckett saw Jane's smile instantly disappear and be replaced with a scowl. Sensing danger, she quickly redirected the conversation back onto point.

"So you guys think he ordered the hit on Rebecca?" she asked.

Jane recovered himself smoothly. "Nobody else stood to gain as much from her death as he did. So let's get him here and make him admit it."

"On what grounds?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know, tell him to come and pick up Rebecca's personal effects or something."

"We can't lure him here under false pretences," Lisbon countered.

"Tell him that Carl Vasser made a statement against him," said Castle. "That's not a lie, technically. He just didn't go on record-"

"Because he was too busy holding a gun to my head," said Lisbon. Beckett was surprised that she could be so candid about the gun incident already. So was everyone else, by the number of raised eyebrows in the room. She also noticed Jane had cast his eyes to the floor.

"Anyway," said Castle, "you saw what a hothead he was, he'll want to defend himself. And while we're taking his statement we can just sort of turn the questioning to other things."

Beckett exchanged a glance with Lisbon and she was sure they were both thinking the same thing. Was another plan concocted by their consultants the answer?

"It might work," Lisbon conceded. "And I think you should do the questioning Detective Beckett. You certainly made more headway last time. But I want one of my team in there with you."

"Who, Jane?"

Lisbon shook her head. "No. Agent Cho can handle this one."

Beckett flicked a glance over at Cho, who showed neither pleasure nor annoyance at being volunteered for the job. "Are you sure?" she asked Lisbon.

"Cho is a superb interrogator," she said firmly. "He's the best we've got." Jane frowned at this remark, and she ignored him.

Rigsby came back to the group. "Got 'em," he said, triumphantly. "Autopsy reports'll be here within the hour."

"Good work," said Beckett. "I'm going to give our grieving widower a call and see if he can come down and talk to us today."

"The sooner we get this closed, the better," agreed Lisbon.

"And the sooner we catch this bastard we can get out the hell out of here, and get back to our real jobs in our own city," finished Beckett. It was only after she'd said that, that she realised that it might have been construed as somewhat offensive, and by the look of Lisbon's face, it had obviously been taken as such.

"Well I'm sure we'll all be happy to see the back of this one," said Lisbon, politely, but not completely hiding the slight acidity in her tone. "But unfortunately we're not quite there yet."

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Castle shaking his head disapprovingly at her, but fighting back a smile at the same time. When Lisbon had retreated to her office, shutting the blinds behind her, he came up beside her on the pretext of getting a better look at the whiteboard.

"Nice one," he said, in a low voice. "You just can't get it right, you two. Can you?"

"What did I do?" she snapped, stung. "I only meant-"

"I know what you meant," he interrupted. "But you might want to work on your delivery a little. It sounded just a tad condescending."

"It's not my fault she has a problem with me," she said, defensively.

"And she's not the only one," he said, daring her to contradict him. "It takes two to tango, you know."

She snorted. "Spare me the clichés. I'm already annoyed enough."

"I'm just saying, it's not like you apologised…"

"I didn't mean anything by it! She just took it the wrong way!" She said this a little more loudly then she'd meant to, and a few heads popped up from desks.

"Well that's what I always say to you, and yet you still make me apologise when I offend people."

"That's different."

"Is it?"

"Yes," she said, obstinately. "Because, well…because," she paused, hopelessly searching for a reason but infuriatingly, not finding one. She changed tack. "What are you defending her for anyway?" she snapped. "You're my partner, you're supposed to be on _my_ side."

"I _am_ on your side. I've got your back, always, you know that."

She felt ashamed of herself at the hurt in his eyes. She should never have said that, should never have given the impression that she doubted him. Castle was the most loyal friend she'd ever had, and she did him a great disservice by suggesting he was anything else.

"But part of that is telling you when you're wrong about something," he continued. "And this time, I'm sorry, but you kind of are."

"So what do you want me to do then?" she asked irritably.

He smirked. "I would never presume to tell you what to do, Beckett," he said. "But if you were in my shoes right now, what would _you_ say?"

There was a long pause. Beckett watched Jane cross the room and knock on Lisbon's door. When there was no response, he simply opened it and proceeded inside. She could feel that Castle was still watching her, waiting for an answer.

"Since when did you become the sensible one?" she snapped at him.

"I've learned a lot from you over the years," he said.

"I'm going to have to say something, aren't I?" she asked. It was as close as she intended to come to admitting she'd been wrong, and she could tell he understood that from the way he grinned.

She scowled to herself. Castle may have been right, but she didn't have to like it.

* * *

><p>When Jane entered Lisbon's office, it was to find her standing just inside the door, breathing deeply and clenching and unclenching her fists like she was trying to prevent herself from punching something. Perhaps this was a product of the anger management course LaRoche had sent her to after she'd punched Donny Culpepper in the face. All in the name of saving Jane's ass of course.<p>

"I thought you handled yourself very well out there," he remarked. "But you don't have to bottle up your anger now. You can talk to me."

She ignored him.

"I could hypnotise you if you like," he offered. "Put you in a light trance, it might calm you down a little."

"Like I'd ever agree to that. I'm fine," she said shortly. "I just need a moment and then I'll come back out."

"It isn't healthy to just store up all your emotions like this," he said. "One day you're going to explode."

"I said, I'm fine," she repeated, tartly.

"You're not. You're mad as hell. And you're trying not to say anything because you think it's unprofessional, but it's driving you crazy." He cautiously took a step closer to her. "Let it out," he urged her. "I'm your partner. You can tell me."

"No I can't," she said. "Because how do I know you won't run off and tell _her_?"

"I won't."

"Why not? She's your new best friend, isn't she? You've been practically attached at the hip the last few days, having coffee together and going out for drinks after work. And she probably knows all about Red John by now," she accused.

"The subject has come up," he admitted.

"So you keep me at arm's length, hiding up in that attic of yours, but you don't mind talking to her."

"It wasn't like that," he began, before realizing that she wasn't listening to him anymore, launching into a full blown tirade.

"And this case is so frustrating, everywhere we turn is a dead end, and we do them a favour by inviting them to share it with us. She has the nerve to make out it's not important to them, but if I tell them to go home now I look like I'm being petty."

This carried on for another minute or so, and Jane waited patiently for her to rant herself into silence. When she finally did, he smiled at her as she cringed at her loss of control.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"Maybe," she said, evasively. She gave a deep sigh and wearily rubbed her temples. "I'm sorry."

Oh Lisbon. Why didn't she see that she didn't have to be the strong one all the time?

"It's OK for you to offload a bit every now and then," he said. "I won't tell anyone."

"So it'll just be between you, me and Beckett, right?" she said with a small, humourless smile.

He sighed. "Will you stop that?" he said. "She's my friend, that's all."

"Sure she is," she said sarcastically. "And I'm sure it's all down to her great personality and not-"

"The way she looks?" he interrupted, not quite believing they were actually having this conversation.

"Oh it's not just that," she said. "Seven years we've been partners, Jane. Seven! And you've told her more about yourself in four days then you've told me in seven years. Sometimes I wonder if I should even bother anymore."

"I told her the bare essentials, Lisbon," he said. "I told her the things that any idiot could learn from Google, but the things I tell you, I don't tell anyone else. Ever."

He took another tentative step towards her. She looked a little unnerved at his venturing into her personal space, but allowed it.

"She's a great person," he said. "And I like her very much, but she's never going to be anything other than a friend."

"Why not?" asked Lisbon.

"She's not you."

She opened her mouth to retort, and then closed it again. A nervous silence fell between them, practically pulsing with tension. Well he'd said it now, and there was no taking it back. He'd been hoping for her to say something, or at least for a smile, but she turned a look of deepest suspicion on him instead.

"Don't try to charm your way out of this," she said. "Don't lie to me."

She thought he was playing her. She thought everything he'd said was a big joke. Well, she was about to see how serious he was.

"I'm not lying to you," he said, taking yet another step towards her.

"Prove it," she challenged.

That was all the invitation he'd been waiting for. He closed the distance between them, and for the first time, he kissed her.

It was supposed to be a quick, gentle kiss so as not to freak her out too much, but it seemed his arms had a mind of their own as they wrapped themselves around her tiny frame, and dragged her closer. He felt her hesitate, taken by surprise, but then she responded in kind, winding her arms around his neck and kissing him back.

She felt perfect in his arms, like she had always been meant to be there, like some cosmic entity (if he'd believed in such things) had designed it so they would fit together like this. It just felt right.

It was when the kissing became less tender and more frenetic, and when he heard a tiny little moan issue from her, that he decided it might be best to break it off before it went too far. They were, after all in the office with people outside waiting for them. So despite the almost overwhelming temptation to just pull her down onto the couch with him and kiss her all day, he gently parted their lips, but kept his firm hold on her waist all the same.

"Believe me now?" he whispered.

She nodded, still looking a little shell-shocked, and he smiled down at her. If he hadn't known already, this had made him sure. If ever he was going to move on with someone else, it was going to be Teresa Lisbon. There would never be anyone else.

"We should get back to work," she said. He understood that this wasn't a cop-out, but a chance for her to process what had just happened, to assess her own feelings about it, and the last thing he wanted to do was push her.

"As you wish," he said, and opened the door for her.

* * *

><p>Beckett hung up her phone after finally coaxing Derek Van Keil to come by the CBI as soon as he could. He had been reticent, but with all the charm she could muster, she had finally talked him around. As she put the phone back in her pocket, Lisbon's office door opened.<p>

Jane and Lisbon walked out of it, he looking quietly pleased about something, and she a little dazed.

"Van Keil's on his way," Beckett called out to them. "He said he'd be here in half an hour."

"Good," said Lisbon. She seemed a little distracted, and her cheeks were a little flushed.

Beckett glanced over at Castle who gave an encouraging nod. This was the part she'd been dreading.

"Lisbon, about before…"

"What?" she said, distractedly.

Beckett fumed. This was humiliating enough already, did Lisbon really have to go and make it even more awkward?

"You know, what I said about leaving…"

Jane nudged Lisbon, who with a visible effort, tried to pull herself together. She attempted a smile, that didn't reach her eyes and her eyes flickered nervously around the room.

"Don't worry about it," she said, trying for airiness. "It's forgotten."

Well that had been easier than she'd thought.

"Are you sure?" she ventured.

"Yeah, sure," said Lisbon absent-mindedly. "I gotta go, I need to talk to Cho."

She departed in search of her agent leaving a smirking Jane, a surprised Castle, and a thoroughly confused Beckett in her wake.

"What's with her?" she asked Jane.

The smirk morphed into a megawatt smile.

"I have no idea," he said.

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you enjoyed. I know I got a little carried away with the CastleLisbon chat but it was fun to write.**


	9. Going Rogue

**Thanks as always for your reviews, alerts and favourites. Appreciated and welcomed.**

**I had great fun with this chapter. I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.**

**Rating still T. Shows still aren't mine and in all likelihood, never will be.**

* * *

><p>Kate Beckett did so love a good interrogation. There was nothing quite the feeling of tripping up a suspect; catching them in their lies and making all the pieces of the murder puzzle come together.<p>

Of course, today was a little different from usual, in California instead of New York, and the chair at her side usually occupied by Castle instead containing Agent Cho. But nonetheless, this was still her playground, her home turf.

As usual, she had taken the lead in the interrogation of Derek Van Keil. Agent Cho had in fact, said very little the whole time, fixing Van Keil with an impassive, unmoving stare. She had to admit, she could see why Lisbon had said he was the best; there had probably been many a suspect who had simply cracked under his steely gaze without a single question needing to be asked.

Derek Van Keil however, seemed to be made of stronger stuff. While clearly uncomfortable with being in an interview room, and avoiding Agent Cho's eye as best he could, he'd yet to give any sign that he was about to fold.

She'd asked him about being cut out of the family fortune in the event of divorce, and whether he was aware his wife had started seeing someone else. He put on a good show of surprise and outrage upon hearing the latter question, but personally, she wasn't buying it. His outburst just seemed a little too polished, as though it had been rehearsed many times in preparation for something like this.

This would be about the time on a normal day when she'd glance at Castle and the two of them would have one of their telepathic conversations about what to do next, but today, he wasn't here. She knew he was close by however, watching from behind the mirror probably, as was his custom when not allowed to sit in with her. Over the years, she had become more and more used to his presence in the interrogation room, and things felt different now when he wasn't there. Not bad exactly, she didn't need him to be able to do her job, but slightly off-kilter, like the balance had been upset.

She always asked the direct questions; the what, the who, the how, but Castle always took it upon himself to ask the why. It wasn't enough for him to have evidence that someone had committed a crime; he wanted to know the motivation behind it, why they'd felt they'd had to turn to turn to murder. He wasn't satisfied unless things made sense to him, and she had to admit, that trait had been helpful in the past, encouraging them to look further afield, to think a little more creatively, and catching out many people would otherwise would not have been brought to justice.

Derek Van Keil raised an eyebrow at her, as though challenging her to hit him with her best shot. If there was something she hated more than a lying suspect, it was a smug one.

"Would you consider yourself a vengeful person, Mr Van Keil?" she asked.

"No," he said. "I don't like to be crossed, but hey, who does?" he replied.

"And what if someone did cross you?" said Cho, speaking for the first time in his slow, deep voice. "Like your wife for example."

"I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"Let me paint a little picture for you," said Beckett. "You and Rebecca are having problems with your marriage, and then you find out that she's seeing someone else, planning to leave you…and taking all her inheritance with her. You don't strike me as the kind of guy who would take that lying down."

"So I hired a hitman to murder my wife before she could divorce me?" he said, skeptically. "I think you've been hanging around with that novelist for far too long Detective, and his talent for making up stories is rubbing off on you." He leaned forward in his seat. "Tell me, how much are you like that cop Nikki Heat?"

"She's a fictional character," said Beckett, forcing herself not to sigh. She was really sick of having to make that distinction. "But there is one quality we share," she said.

"And what's that? A healthy sexual appetite?" he asked, leering at her. "I'm a single man now… and I'm lonely."

Beckett ignored this. "You want to know the thing about me and Nikki Heat?" she asked, lowering her voice, and glaring at him. "We always get the bad guy in the end."

* * *

><p>"I will never get tired of this."<p>

Castle stood in the observation room with Jane next to him, watching Beckett advance on Van Keil with the fire in her eyes he knew and adored.

"She's quite something," Jane agreed.

"She's like a panther in there," said Castle. " She sneaks up on people, and they don't even realise it, and then bam!" He smacked his fist into his palm. "She strikes. I could watch her interrogate all day."

Jane smiled at this, and Castle realised that he had been gushing like a schoolgirl with a crush. How embarrassing. "Where's Lisbon?" he asked, changing the subject.

Curiously, Jane's smile widened even further at the mention of his boss.

"She's with the others, going through the autopsy reports," he said.

Castle frowned. Lisbon hadn't struck him as the type to be content with doing paperwork when she had plenty of subordinates to delegate it to. He'd thought she'd want to be right in the thick of things.

But then, she'd been acting strangely ever since she and Jane had emerged from her office half an hour ago. She hadn't met her consultant's eyes once, and had brushed Castle off when he'd asked her if she was OK. If it had been anyone else, he might have suspected that something of a romantic nature had happened in that office. All the signs were there. The awkwardness, the way the hem of her sweater seemed a little creased, the way she was avoiding Jane like the plague.

But Agent Lisbon would never do a thing like that. Ridiculous.

On the other side of the glass, Beckett slammed something down in front of Van Keil, which when he picked it up, was revealed to be a photograph. He smirked at her, and she began firing more questions at him. On the other hand, Agent Cho maintained his silence.

"Not exactly the talkative type, is he?" Castle observed, as Cho crossed his arms.

Jane chuckled. "He doesn't have to be," he said. "It's all in the eyes."

"How do you mean?"

"Try being on the receiving end of that glare sometime, and you'll know what I'm talking about."

They watched for another few minutes, as Van Keil deftly sidestepped question after question. It seemed he had an answer for everything.

"This guy is good," said Castle. "He's not flinching."

"He's prepared himself for this," said Jane. "I bet he's been practising what to say ever since we visited his house the other day."

"Do you think they can break him?"

"No disrespect to your 'panther,'" said Jane, and Castle scowled at him, "but I doubt it. Look at his face; he's enjoying this. He feels like he's in control."

"So what do we do next?" asked Castle, deigning to ignore the slight on Beckett.

"I want to go back to his place, and have a proper look around," said Jane. "If he did hire our hitman there's bound to be evidence of it somewhere."

"Don't we need a warrant for that? And the keys?"

"Well yes, technically. But you know, warrants take time. And I happen to have a certain skill for locks. So what do you say?" he asked, with a sly grin. "Are you in?"

A smile slowly spread across Castle's face. He thought he'd been behaving pretty well since they'd been here in Sacramento. Beckett had given him a long lecture on the plane about how since they were out of her jurisdiction, she would not have the same power to get him out of sticky situations that she normally did. But the fresh disappointment with Beckett and the ongoing partner/friend debate, and the maddeningly slow progress of the case combined together now to leave him feeling a little _reckless_.

He never could resist the tempting call of adventure, and by the looks of it, he had finally come across someone who felt the same way. He remembered what Esposito had told him about Jane's history of going to extreme lengths to prove himself right. He could relate. In fact, now he thought about it, he and Jane seemed to have quite a lot in common, right on down to taste in women (though in that particular area he would have preferred a little difference of opinion.)

He really shouldn't go. Beckett would be furious when she inevitably found out, and Lisbon would probably be none too impressed either. Common sense and rationality told him to stay put. There'd be plenty of time to search the house later, with all the proper warrants to hand, not to mention some actual evidence, rather than just his gut feeling.

But Jane had the same gut feeling, and he liked to think they were both reasonably perceptive people. And Van Keil didn't live all that far away; if they left now, they could go and be back before they were missed. Van Keil would be spooked by the interrogation today; if there were anything incriminating in the house, he would certainly get rid of it as soon as possible. If they were going to do this, they had to do it now.

He nodded at Jane. "Let's do it," he said. "But we'd better make it quick."

* * *

><p>Lisbon tried to focus on the file in front of her. She was studying the autopsy report of one of their new victims and her concentration was fleeting, to say the least. On either side, Ryan and Esposito were each bent over a file, Van Pelt doing the same at her desk. Rigsby stood at the whiteboard, adding the relevant notes that the others called out to him.<p>

She stared down at the page, but the words just didn't seem to be going in, or making any kind of sense. Her mind kept revisiting her little interlude with Jane, and simply refused to take anything else on board.

_Name: Bryce Freeman._

She'd kissed Jane half an hour ago. She'd been imagining it, wondering what it might be like for months, and now it had actually happened. Oh God, if she'd any idea what was going to happen when he'd followed her into her office…no. She mustn't be thinking about this right now.

_Date of birth: 4/19/1986_

Had he planned it? Did he follow her in with the intention of kissing her, or had it been a spur-of-the-moment thing? Did it make a difference to her either way? But it was irrelevant anyway, so stop thinking about it Teresa!

_Race: Caucasian._

She shouldn't have kissed him back, should have been strong enough to push him away, make him stop. But he'd made her believe in that moment that she was all he wanted, and she had never known her consultant not to get what he wanted. How was she supposed to stop him? Oh, and it had felt so good, she could have stayed there forever.

_Race: Caucasian._

What? She'd read this part already, hadn't she? Yes. Yes, she had. She'd just been distracted by thoughts of what they might have been doing at this very moment, had he not stopped it. But she should not be thinking about it, because it was not going to happen. Ever. But what if she did want it to happen again? What if she wanted to happen frequently? What if she could very easily see herself being happy to kiss him every day for an extended period? What did that mean?

_Race: Caucasian._

This was getting ridiculous now. She'd read the same entry three times, and still wasn't any closer to taking it in. She was letting him screw with her head; she was letting him get under her skin. Well, no more. She took a deep breath to clear her head and then she started the whole thing afresh.

_Name: Bryce Freeman_

Footsteps approaching, and she made the mistake of looking up to see him walking by, accompanied by Castle. He caught her eye, and sent a lady-killer smile her way, the very one that she'd always secretly found irresistible. The one that always made her want to smile back, but she refused to give in to him. She was stronger than this. She turned determinedly back to the report again, as he began to make his way towards her.

_Name:_

Oh, for the love of God.

"Hey Lisbon," came his voice. "Hard at work, I see."

She fixed her face into an expression of disapproval before she put down the file. Best to at least pretend that everything was normal; despite the way her mind was in turmoil right now.

"Unlike you two," she said, coolly.

"Castle and I have to step out for a while," he informed her.

His collar was crooked, she noticed. She must have knocked it when she'd put her arms around his neck. She hadn't had a clue at the time, too occupied with getting her hands on him as quickly as possible. She wanted to reach out and fix it for him; it seemed to be screaming at her as evidence of what they had done.

"And do what?" she asked, desperately trying to keep her mind on the conversation.

"Lunch," said Jane without missing a beat. "You guys are doing boring stuff, so we thought we'd go get a taco."

Castle nodded. "Do you want us to bring you back one, Lisbon?" he offered, looking over her face with apparent concern. "You look a little strange."

She opened her mouth to respond but Jane neatly cut her off.

"She's all right," he said. "It's just been a _surprising_ day that's all." He gave a tiny wink. "Right, Lisbon?"

Ordinarily, she would be hesitant to let her consultant out of her sight for longer than a few minutes, particularly when he was with someone who might serve as a potential accomplice in whatever chaos might ensue. But this was a good opportunity for her. She could use the time Jane was away to get her head out of the clouds and back on their case. Sometimes she just needed a break from him, and especially today.

"Right," she agreed. "But don't take too long. We might need you guys later."

"Isn't that nice?" said Jane to Castle. "We're needed."

"I said 'might,'" said Lisbon irritably. "Just go. And Jane, please be careful. I don't want a repeat of what happened last time you went for tacos."

"I'm always careful."

"Sure you are. And we don't have time to mount a full-scale search today, so if it happens again, you're on your own."

He laughed at that, waved a goodbye, and walked off to the elevator with a confused-looking Castle. She could feel Jane's eyes on her as he stepped inside and pressed the down button. He kept gazing at her until the doors slid closed.

The instant he disappeared from view, she put down the file and told Rigsby to come take over. That was the good thing about being in charge; someone else could do the legwork while she went for coffee. And she was going to need an extra-strong one this afternoon, and perhaps some of the chocolate biscuits Rigsby had stashed away in his desk.

* * *

><p>"So what happened last time you went out for tacos?" Castle asked Jane as the lift descended.<p>

"Let's just say I took a long detour, courtesy of a slightly crazy environmental activist," said Jane.

"What, were you kidnapped or something?"

"Yep. The first time of several. Has it ever happened to you?"

Castle nodded. "Once," he said. He was sure he'd never forget the few hours he'd spent at the mercy of Jerry Tyson, with an injured Ryan, wondering if help was coming, terrified that they might be too late. Thank God his mother had gotten the hint when he'd spoken to her, if she hadn't sent Beckett and the rest of the team along he would most probably not be standing here now.

"I don't know why it's always me they want to snatch, of all people," said Jane. "The CBI wouldn't pay to get me back; in fact they'd probably pay them to _keep_ me."

The doors opened and they walked out to the lobby. As they went to push the door open, a young woman entered in front of them. At the sight of Castle, she gasped in delight.

"Oh, my gosh! Richard Castle. It really is you!"

Jane grinned at her. "Hello, Raquel," he said.

Raquel spared him a quick, disinterested glance. "Oh, hey Jane," she said, before turning back to Castle. "I can't believe it's true!" she squealed. "My friend Mimi told me you were here but I just couldn't believe it unless I saw you with my own eyes. And then she said was I calling her a liar? And then _I_ said-"

"It's nice to meet you, Raquel," said Castle automatically. "But we were kind of on the way somewhere so if you'll excuse us…"

Raquel held up a cell phone. "Oh please, Mr Castle, can I have a picture first?" she asked.

Castle looked sideways at Jane, who sighed. "Make it quick," he muttered. "We're on the clock here. We've got maybe forty-five minutes before Lisbon figures out what's really going on, and then all bets are off."

"Don't worry, man," said Castle, under his breath. "I got this."

Castle effortlessly switched into fan mode, made the required small talk, posed for a photograph, and within a few minutes he and Jane were on their way out the door.

"Don't you ever get tired of that?" Jane asked as they walked through the parking lot.

"What man doesn't love the idea of women throwing themselves at him all day?" said Castle, with a grin. Indeed, he knew many men who would give anything to be in his spot. He however, would happily trade in every fan girl in the world in order to have a chance with the one he really wanted.

Jane shrugged, and came to a stop, pulling a ring of keys out of his pocket.

"What the hell is this?" said Castle, as he surveyed the small blue car they were standing next to. He'd never seen anything like it before, except perhaps in old movies he couldn't remember the name of.

"My car," Jane said, flatly. "I'm sorry you won't be able to travel in the style to which you're accustomed, but we can't _all_ drive Ferraris."

Castle frowned at him. Did he really have to make it sound so pretentious? He may be rich now, but he certainly hadn't started out that way, and he had never, ever, made judgements on people's character based on money. He wasn't like that. And he was proud to say that Alexis, who had grown up in a life of privilege, and had everything she could possibly want, wasn't like that either. He credited that to good parenting on his part.

"Maybe we should take the SUV," he suggested, forcing politeness. "It might be less conspicuous."

"What is it with people and making judgements on my car?" Jane complained, unlocking the doors. "It's a classic!"

* * *

><p>They'd been interrogating Van Keil for over an hour now, and still no dice. Beckett was beginning to get frustrated by the lack of progress, and she suspected Agent Cho was as well, as he had abandoned the strong silent routine and was beginning to ask questions of his own.<p>

And still Van Keil hadn't cracked. Usually in a situation like this, now would be about the time to bring Castle in. He no doubt had some crazy take on it that she wouldn't have been able to come up with in a million years. She glanced up at the mirror. He must be behind there, watching, he always was. Maybe she could slip out for a moment and compare notes with him.

She always hated having to ask for help, but sometimes circumstances forced her to swallow her pride. And Castle wouldn't judge her, or think any less of her. In fact, on the rare occasions she did reach out to him, he could barely contain his excitement. It was kind of sweet how proud he was of himself whenever he was able to help her.

And the point was, at the moment she was backed into a corner and running out of ideas.

Decision made, she quietly excused herself and walked next door to the viewing room. To her surprise, it was empty. Strange. She'd never known Castle not to be hovering around during an interview. Something about it gave her a bad feeling, but she hastily dismissed it. He must have gone for coffee, that was all, or Lisbon had gotten him to help out with some other aspect of the investigation.

As she stepped back into the interrogation room, the thought crossed her mind that he might be up to his old tricks, and was off God-knew-where doing something stupid, but she dismissed that too. He didn't know this area at all. Surely he wouldn't be fool enough to go running around Sacramento on his own.

* * *

><p>Jane parked his car across the street from Van Keil's house and he and Castle proceeded up the front walk, trying not to look suspicious. With a furtive look to the left and right to make sure nobody was watching, he reached into his pocket for a pin and quickly picked the lock.<p>

"Told you," he said, in answer to Castle's raised eyebrow. "I've never met a locked door yet that I couldn't open."

They crept inside, and took in their surroundings.

"There's an office down the hall," said Castle. "That's as good a place as any to start."

"I'll take a look in the bedroom," said Jane.

He pushed the door open and found himself in a room with soft white carpet on the floor, wide windows, and a huge bed, with a duvet that looked as though it had easily cost Van Keil a thousand dollars or more. He opened the closet to find it full of expensive tailored suits, designer shirts and dress shoes. There was no gap to indicate clothes had recently been removed from it, and there was no makeup on the dressing table. It was clear his wife had not lived here for a long time before her death.

"Got anything?" called Castle from the next room.

"Looks like Rebecca had moved out a while ago," he called back. "There's none of her stuff here at all."

"Vasser mentioned they were separated. Maybe she was living with him." Castle suggested.

"Yeah, maybe. Have you found anything?"

"His laptop," Castle said, carrying it in with him as he came to join Jane. "Password was easy to crack. Seriously, who uses their own name as a password?"

"Someone who's either very foolish, or very arrogant."

"Or both," Castle pointed out. He tapped a few keys on the laptop. "There's not much here," he said. "Stock market results, eBay, porn…jeez," he added. "And Beckett thinks _I_ have a dirty mind. This stuff is even making _me_ blush."

"Maybe we're looking in the wrong place," said Jane, thoughtfully, as Castle continued to tap beside him. "He wouldn't have left evidence on the computer. That's where he would have expected us to look."

"Well, if he didn't know we were coming…" proposed Castle.

"No, you saw him in that interrogation room. He was well prepared for being interviewed. I bet he has a whole bunch of contingency plans, just in case we came poking around."

Castle sighed, and closed the laptop. "It's clear," he said. He looked around the room, and focused on something on the bedside table. "Hey Jane," he said, nudging him. "Check it out." Jane followed his eyeline until he saw it too.

"Their missing wedding picture," he said, picking it up. Rebecca had been a beautiful woman in life, he thought as he examined it. She was glowing with happiness, with Derek's arms around her. He passed it to Castle, who looked at it too, with a sad smile on his face.

"They look happy," he said.

"Makes you wonder how it all went so wrong," said Jane.

"That's the thing about marriage, I guess," said Castle. "It's basically two people taking a huge gamble on the fact that they'll be happy together for the rest of their lives, and it's damn hard to do. I've got two failed ones to prove it."

"But you'd be open to doing it again," said Jane, remembering the conversation they'd had on this subject the last time they were here.

"Sure, to the right person."

"As in, to Beckett?"

Castle frowned at Jane, but didn't deny the charge. "If the day ever comes when I can call Kate Beckett my wife I will be a very, _very_ lucky man." There was a brief pause. "And what about you?" he asked. "Would you ever get married again?"

Jane looked down at his wedding ring, and it flashed in the sunlight. He was slightly taken aback by the question; he didn't remember mentioning anything about his marital status to Castle.

"You're a widower, right?" said Castle. "It's the only way to explain the fact that you still wear the ring, but have never mentioned your wife once."

"Very astute," said Jane.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry," said Castle.

"Thanks," said Jane, choosing not to answer Castle's question, because in all honesty, he had no idea what his future plans were (well aside from the obvious.) He'd never given much thought to what might happen if Red John were out of the way. He supposed, in theory, he would like to perhaps find somebody to spend the rest of his days with, however long they may be. And given the incident in her office this morning, he couldn't imagine wanting to be with anybody but Lisbon. But he wasn't sure if he'd ever be comfortable with the idea of remarrying. One thing he _was_ sure of, however was that he couldn't handle losing another wife.

"Don't you think it's strange that he kept it though?" asked Castle. "I mean, he's purged the house of every other vestige of his wife. Why keep this?"

"It's odd," Jane agreed.

Castle made to hand the photo back, but Jane, distracted by his thoughts, didn't reach for it in time and it slipped though his fingers, onto the floor. He picked it up again, but in so doing, noticed something strange.

"Hey, look," he said to Castle. "The back of this isn't dusty."

"So?"

"Well, look at the front," he said, turning it over. "It's caked with dust, but the back doesn't have a speck on it."

"You think it's been opened recently?" said Castle, cottoning on.

"Let's find out."

Jane opened the back of the frame, and gave it a gentle shake. A piece of paper fell out onto the floor.

* * *

><p>Another half-hour of fruitless questioning later, Beckett was forced to concede defeat. Derek Van Keil was not going to budge, and without any evidence against him, she had no reason to hold him any longer. Regretfully, she told he was free to leave. He rose from his seat with a smug smile, and swept out of the interview room.<p>

"Bad luck," said Agent Cho. She supposed that was his idea of being supportive and comforting.

"We'll get him next time," she said, with much more confidence than she felt.

"I wouldn't count on it," said Cho, flatly.

"I was being optimistic," she explained.

"And I was being honest."

She refrained from rolling her eyes with difficulty. Yes, Cho was right and the odds of getting Van Keil to crack were not great, but did he have to be such a downer all the time? She found it incredibly depressing. She supposed his policy of brutal honesty was an acquired taste however, as the rest of his team didn't seem to mind, and even found it amusing some of the time.

For her part however, she hoped to find Castle, who always seemed to say the right thing at moments like this. He was bound to have some new idea of a lead to pursue, or at the very least, a few words of encouragement.

She and Cho left the interview room and walked back out into the bullpen, where most of the others were still trawling through the autopsy reports.

"Any luck?" asked Lisbon, who was studying the whiteboard with a cup of coffee in her hand.

"Nope," said Beckett. "I had to cut him loose. But he knows something, I'm sure of it."

"Damn," said Lisbon. "Maybe tomorrow we can let Jane take a run at him. He might be able to get something."

"How about you guys?" asked Beckett. "Any DNA evidence from our killer yet?"

Lisbon smiled. "Yes, actually. Detective Ryan discovered something in one of our cold cases."

Beckett felt a surge of pride at her detective as he told her the details. "One of the female victims Joanne Prescott, there was a hair caught in the rope that was used to strangle her. It wasn't hers. I've just put in a call to the evidence lock-up. The case is three years old, so it should still be in there somewhere. All we have to do is get a sample from our hitman, and if we're right, he's toast."

He hit high-fives with Esposito, and then Rigsby, who sat on either side of him.

"Good work, guys," said Beckett. "Now all we gotta do is find the bastard."

She walked over to join Lisbon at the whiteboard. Lisbon seemed to be a lot calmer now than she had been earlier. Beckett wondered what had brought on the frenetic mood she'd be in before. Whatever he said, she suspected Jane knew exactly what had been going on; apparently he and his boss continued to have a few secrets.

A few minutes passed, and Beckett felt a growing sense of unease. Something felt wrong. She looked around to see what it was that could be troubling her, and then realised that it was about what _wasn't_ there.

Where was Castle? It had now been nearly ten minutes since she'd emerged from the interview room and he had yet to appear at her side. He should be standing here with them right now, deeply immersed in the case like he usually was. She'd gotten so used to him shadowing her now, that something felt off when he wasn't around.

"Has anyone seen Castle?" she asked the room at large.

To her surprise, it was Lisbon who answered. "Yeah, he and Jane went out for tacos."

"Tacos?" Beckett repeated. "Castle doesn't even like Mexican food that much. How long ago did they go?"

Lisbon, who had been writing something on the board, paused mid-word. "A while ago, actually," she said. "I would've thought they'd be back by now." Slowly, the neutral expression on her face started to change, and a look of mingled horror and fury took its place. "Oh God," she said.

"What?" asked Beckett, in alarm.

Lisbon didn't seem to have heard her, still holding the whiteboard marker in place. "I'm such an idiot," she said quietly. "Oh, I'll kill him. I swear to God, this time I'm going to _shoot_ him."

"Lisbon!" said Beckett loudly, in an attempt to get her attention. "What's going on?"

Lisbon turned to face her. "When Jane has a theory, he tends to kind of fall off the grid sometimes," she said. "He'll run off and chase up his idea without telling anyone where he's going."

And Beckett understood. Jane had a history of going rogue. Kind of like someone else she knew.

"Castle does the same thing," she admitted, wanting to smack her head against the whiteboard at her stupidity for letting him out of her sight for even a minute. "What are we going to do?" she asked.

* * *

><p>Castle picked up the little piece of paper and eagerly smoothed it out. He read the word 'Freemont' and a telephone number.<p>

"No way," he breathed. "He keeps his hitman's contact details inside his wedding picture? That is _cold_."

"Smart," Jane commented, giving credit where it was due. "No-one would ever have thought to look there. Except for us of course."

They exchanged a smile.

"Gives a whole new meaning to 'til death do us part,'" said Castle. "This is what we've been looking for. But what do we do? We can't take it with us, if he checks and discovers it's missing, he'll know someone's been here."

"Have you got a notepad and pen?" asked Jane.

"Duh," said Castle, reaching into his pocket. "I'm a writer. Standard tools of the trade."

"Good. Copy it down, and then we should get the hell out of here. Lisbon'll be smelling a rat by now."

"Thank God Beckett's busy interviewing Van Keil," said Castle.

"Oh is she?" a new voice broke in, from behind them. Castle forced himself not to yelp in fright as he turned around to see Derek Van Keil standing in the doorway, holding a gun.

As one, he and Jane raised their hands to the heads.

"Not very slick, boys," he commented. "If you're going to break into someone's house, at least have the sense to shut the door behind you."

"Actually you know, we were just leaving," Castle tried, but Van Keil merely smirked.

"I don't think so," he said. "You know too much. We're going to have to deal with that." He surveyed them both. "I can see that neither of you are armed, but I think I'd better take your cell-phones, just so you can't call in the cavalry."

He raised the gun threateningly, and they both obeyed the command, handing over their phones. Van Keil took out the batteries and stowed the phones in his pocket.

"OK," he said. "Now we deal with the more pressing problem of the two of you finding out my dirty little secret."

"They'll be looking for us, you know," Jane spoke up. "When we don't come back they'll know something's up."

Van Keil shrugged. "I bet neither of you bothered to tell them where you were going," he said. "And by the time they figure out where to look it'll be too late."

* * *

><p>Lisbon took a deep breath. "They must have caught something about the case," she said. "We just have to figure out what. And wherever they are, at least we know they must be together."<p>

"Great," said Beckett, unenthusiastically. "An idiot being lead by an even bigger idiot. That's comforting."

"Which one's which?" asked Lisbon.

"Who even cares?"

"This is exactly the kind of hassle we didn't need," said Lisbon, wearily. "I _told_ Jane to stay out of trouble. How stupid am I, thinking he might actually listen to me for once?"

This was all her fault. This was obviously the real reason Jane had kissed her this morning, in order to distract her enough to run another stupid scheme without her noticing. And hadn't that worked a treat? She'd allowed herself to be taken in again and now Jane and Castle were somewhere out there, possibly in danger.

Good one, Lisbon.

Beckett pulled her cellphone out of her pocket and speed-dialled. Lisbon watched anxiously as she held it to her ear. After a minute, cursing, Beckett hung up.

"Castle's phone is off," she reported. "He never turns it off, just in case Alexis calls."

Even though she knew there was little point, Lisbon reached for her own cell and tried Jane's number too.

"Jane's not picking up either," she said.

The first throes of panic were starting to set in now, and Lisbon knew she had to stop herself from losing her head. It wouldn't help them find Jane and Castle, but she couldn't help being afraid. Jane had a knack for getting kidnapped, and every time he did, it was at the back of her mind that Red John might be behind it. But it was unlikely that the serial killer was the culprit this time, it would make no sense to take Castle as well. The last thing he would want would be to have _two_ agencies on his tail.

She took another deep breath. Assuming Jane and Castle had been kidnapped, it was time to take action. Fortunately, she was at an advantage here. She knew how to handle this kind of situation, Jane having put her through it many times before. She knew the key was to clear her head, let go of her emotions and follow the evidence.

She glanced at Beckett, who was putting on a reasonable attempt to hide her distress. She imagined that the idea of something happening to Castle sickened her just as the idea of something happening to Jane made her want to throw up.

"OK," she said. "We need to figure out where the guys were going, and whether they made it before they were taken."

She saw Beckett visibly calm herself and then she agreed.

"We can do this," said Lisbon. "Jane's my partner. Castle is yours. We know them better than anyone else. We can find them."

"We _will_ find them," said Beckett. "And when we do, I'm going to kick Castle's ass into next week."

"Right there with you," said Lisbon, thinking of Jane. "Let's get to work."

* * *

><p>It really was getting boring this kidnapping thing, Jane thought. They were all the same. Threats at gunpoint, hands bound with ropes, cell phones confiscated. Maybe the next time it happened, they would be a little more inventive. He smiled to himself.<p>

"Something funny?" asked Castle, from his left. Van Keil had moved them into the kitchen and fixed their ropes to chairs so they couldn't move an inch. He had then left them, saying something about the bathroom and not to try anything, as he would soon be back.

"Oh relax," said Jane. "Everything's going to be fine."

"Are you kidding me?" asked Castle incredulously. "Are we not seeing the same situation here? We are tied up, nobody knows we're here and there's hit-man hiring lunatic with a gun."

"Lisbon will find us," said Jane, calmly. "She's gotten me out of far worse scrapes than this."

"You have a lot of faith in Lisbon," Castle observed.

"I told you, I've been kidnapped tons of times before this. She's never failed yet."

"And Beckett will be helping her too," said Castle. "She always comes through for me."

"Exactly. Put the two of them together and they'll be here within the hour."

* * *

><p>"It must have something to do with the case," Beckett said, as she and Lisbon stood together at the whiteboard.<p>

"When was the last time you remember seeing Castle?" asked Lisbon.

Beckett thought for a moment. "He asked me if he could come into the interrogation with me. I said no because you wanted Cho in there, and I thought three would be too many."

"Jane said he wanted to watch and see if he could get a read on Van Keil during the interview," said Lisbon. "So he went into the viewing room."

"Castle was probably in there too. If they were watching the interrogation, they would have seen that he wasn't going to break. So I guess they took matters into their own hands and hatched their little plan."

"Plan to do what, though?" said Lisbon. "If Jane thinks an interview's going badly he usually just bursts in and takes over."

"Maybe they decided to go and look for some evidence," said Beckett. "Which of course would have led them to Van Keil's house. Maybe that's where they went."

"How long ago did you cut him loose?" asked Lisbon, as if struck by a sudden thought.

"Maybe half an hour ago, why?"

"That's plenty of time for him to get home. If he caught them there…." She trailed off, but Beckett knew they were thinking the same thing.

"Oh, hell."

Lisbon grabbed for the keys. "We've got to get over there. Cho, Esposito you're with us," she tossed over her shoulder. "The rest of you hold down the fort, answer the phones. If you hear from Jane or Castle, call Beckett or me right away."

They all piled into the elevator, and rode it to the ground floor. Beckett spotted a young woman sitting behind the reception desk reapplying her lipstick.

"You didn't happen to see two men come by here about an hour ago, did you?" she asked.

"Yes!" the woman squealed. "I saw Richard Castle, can you believe it? Jane was with him," she added to Lisbon. "They said something about taking a drive as they were leaving."

Beckett and Lisbon exchanged worried glances and then continued out the door. Lisbon scanned the carpark. "Jane's car is gone," she said.

"How can you be sure?" asked Beckett. After all, Lisbon had taken the smallest of looks before making that assessment. To her surprise, Lisbon smiled.

"Trust me, you'll know it when you see it."

They all got into the SUV, turned on the lights and sirens, and sped through the streets of Sacramento. When they got close, Lisbon shut off the sirens and parked the car just down the road from Van Keil's place.

"There's Jane's car," said Lisbon, pointing to a powder blue Citroen parked across the street. Beckett raised her eyebrows.

"Is he serious?" she asked Lisbon, who shrugged.

"That's Jane," she said. "He's not what you'd call normal." She drew her gun from its holster, and the others all mirrored her. "OK, Cho and I will take the front door, and you guys take the back. We need to take him alive if possible. We all clear on that?"

Nods all around.

"Let's go," said Beckett.

* * *

><p>Jane might be comfortable with being kidnapped, but Castle was not. The only good thing about this situation was that Van Keil seemed to have decided he wanted to be certain of how much they knew before he killed them. Jane had managed to spin an impressive lie to give them a little breathing space, but Castle had the feeling that their borrowed time was about to run out.<p>

Beckett and the others must be on their way by now. If they could just hang in there a little longer…

But Van Keil smirked again in that way that sent a chill down Castle's spine.

"This has been fun, gentlemen," he said. "But now I think it's time to say goodbye. I'll need to get rid of you before your buddies turn up. Mr Jane, let's start with you."

Castle couldn't see what was going on from the angle he was on but he could hear Van Keil's footsteps, and the gun being cocked.

"You should be thanking me," Castle heard him hiss. "You'll be with your lovely wife and daughter again."

Castle flinched with surprise. He had no idea Jane had a child. A daughter, who he'd lost along with his wife. How tragic. If they got out of this, he'd have to ask him about that later. Though right now, that was a pretty big _if_.

Suddenly, there was a thud on the door.

"Mr Van Keil!" Lisbon's voice rang out. "Open this door!"

Van Keil cursed, but Castle's heart gave a leap. They were saved.

"Open it now!" came Lisbon's voice again. After a moment, there was an almighty crash, as he assumed the door was broken down. Gun in hand; Van Keil sprinted out to meet them.

Castle heard the intermingled shouting of Lisbon, Van Keil, and several other voices, which he recognised to belong to Cho, Esposito and finally the most beautiful sound of all, Beckett. There was a series of thuds, and much scuffling. Then a gun discharged whether friend or foe's he didn't know.

Then he heard it, a slamming sound and a soft moan of pain. Terror coursed through him. He'd know that voice anywhere. Beckett. She was down. It would be all his fault if she'd been shot, he'd made her come here in the first place. He should have been there, to protect her.

He endured what felt like an hour of agonising worry before anything happened. Lisbon appeared before them, holstering her weapon, and seemingly unhurt.

"Have I ever told you my dear, that you have an impeccable sense of timing?" Jane said to her.

She ignored him and instead turned to Castle.

"Are you OK?" she asked.

"Yeah, fine," he said. "Beckett, where is she? What happened? Was she hit? I heard-"

"She's OK," Lisbon cut him off, reassuringly. "She tackled Van Keil to get the gun off him and he threw her off into the wall. She just got a little winded, that's all."

"Oh thank God," he said. "I thought-" He couldn't complete the sentence; the idea was too horrific to think about.

"I'm OK too," Jane piped up. "Just in case you're interested."

Lisbon ignored him again, and focused on the ropes binding Castle to the chair. "Let's get these off you."

"Lisbon!" Beckett's voice could be heard from around the corner. "Van Keil's secure. Have you found them?"

"Yeah, they're here. They're fine."

"Good. I'll be right in."

Castle smiled as the ropes began to loosen. His wrists hurt where they'd been cutting into his flesh.

"What are you so happy about?" asked Lisbon, sharply. "She won't be nearly as nice to you as I am."

His face fell. "She won't? But you don't seem mad at me."

Lisbon smirked. "We came to an arrangement on the way over here. She deals with you, I deal with Jane."

The telltale sound of stilettos was audible as Beckett marched into the room. There was already a lump rising on her head, and she was cradling her left arm in her right. He felt guilty at the sight of her. It was all his fault.

"Hey," she greeted him, eyes flashing with anger. "You OK?"

He nodded.

"Good. Get out of the chair. We need to talk."

He looked to Lisbon, who was still working on the ropes.

"Can't I just stay tied up?"

* * *

><p><strong>This may seem like the end, but it isn't. Plenty more to come yet. <strong>

**I can't believe it took me this long to tap into the potential of having not one, but two nutty consultants to play with. How slow am I? Hope you liked it. **


	10. Remonstrations and Reconciliations

**I think that was the longest gap I've ever done between chapters, and I am ashamed. I'll be surprised if I have any readers left, quite frankly. But for any and all of you out there a big thanks for the reviews and alerts and everything. **

**Disclaimer: If the scriptwriters for the shows took as long as I did to update, they'd be fired, so I think it's a good thing therefore, that I have no affiliation with, or ownership of, anything in this story.**

**Still rated T.**

* * *

><p>After a minute's more work, the ropes binding Castle to his chair finally fell away. He thanked Lisbon, and then reluctantly he got to his feet.<p>

"All right," Jane heard Beckett say. "Come on Castle, let's go."

The writer hesitated, casting a pleading look at both Lisbon and Jane in turn, as though hoping one of them would intervene. When neither did, he hung his head in defeat, and shuffled towards the door. Jane got the impression that he was deliberately dragging his feet in order to put off the moment of confrontation until the last possible second.

A small part of him felt for his partner-in-crime; he had no doubt that Detective Beckett could be an extremely formidable force when she was pissed off. But the rest of him was busy worrying about his own general wellbeing; he had too much experience with Hurricane Lisbon to not be expecting the worst.

"Good luck, man," he said in a low voice, as Castle exited the room.

"You too," came the soft reply.

He didn't have to look to know both women were probably rolling their eyes, as he heard Beckett walk out after Castle, leaving him alone with Lisbon.

He'd expected her to start shouting at him right away, but she merely walked forward and set to work on his restraints. She was silent as she tugged and twisted at the ropes, her quiet breathing the only sound. The knots were sturdy, so it took her a few minutes to release him; but finally he was able to pull his hands free, and the rope slithered to the floor. She still hadn't said a word.

Something was wrong. Where was the laser-beam glare? Where were all the "I thought I told you's" and the "you promised me's?" He felt like they were doing a dance that she had suddenly forgotten the steps to. She was supposed to be storming at him right now; that was what always happened after one of his plans went slightly haywire.

Perhaps she was just gearing up for a really good go, the kind that had been known to go on for half an hour solid, practically without her pausing for breath. But the usual indicators weren't there; she should have been folding her arms, tapping her foot, scowling. But she didn't look angry, or even annoyed. If anything she looked…sad. Disappointed. She was searching his face, looking for he didn't know what.

And then she did the oddest thing of all. She put her hands together, and applauded. The sound echoed around the empty room.

He wondered what had prompted this odd behaviour. Maybe she'd suffered a knock to the head that he didn't know about. He'd quickly assessed her condition when she'd first entered the room, and hadn't been able to spot any injuries. Maybe he'd missed one.

His eyes anxiously raked her face and her hairline, looking for a lump or a gash, but he saw nothing. And still she kept clapping, and it reverberated off the walls until it sounded like there were several people in there with her.

"What are you doing?" he asked her now.

She brought her hands together one last time, and then let them fall to her sides. "I just thought you deserved a little recognition," she said, coolly. "For another job well done."

"Well, thank you," he said, in bewilderment. "But I must confess, I'm a little confused. I was expecting anger."

"Anger?" she said, in apparent surprise. "Why would I be mad at you, Jane? I mean all you did was put yourself and a colleague in danger-"

"Hey, I didn't make Castle come with me," he protested. "I just offered."

"-and lie to Beckett and me-"

"Well to be fair, you ought to be used it by now."

"-and break into someone's home without a warrant-"

"If we'd waited for all the legal red tape to be sorted out, he'd have destroyed the evidence before we could get to it."

"-and get yourself kidnapped _again_-"

"Hey maybe next time I'll get a free gift or something. You know, get kidnapped four times and get a complimentary cup of tea on the fifth," he said, hoping she might soften at his attempt at humour. She didn't.

"And then of course, let's not forget the best part," she said angrily. "I'll admit, you had me guessing this morning. Very clever."

"This morning?" repeated Jane in confusion. He hadn't had the idea of leaving until lunchtime. What was she talking about?

It made him uneasy as she watched him trying to puzzle it out.

Only one thing of any note had happened this morning. His memory revisited those happy few minutes in her office, holding her close, kissing her in the way he'd wanted to for years. The way it had seemed to both take his breath away, and invigorate him at the same time. The satisfaction he'd felt when he'd seen the way it affected her as much as it had done him. It was a nice boost to the ego; he had always considered himself to be a good kisser (at least nobody had ever told him otherwise) but it was quite something to be able to make the great Teresa Lisbon go weak at the knees. And it hadn't just been momentarily either; she'd been a little out of it for hours afterwards, which had proved useful when he'd been feeding her that rubbish about getting tacos.

And then the light dawned.

Oh.

_Oh._

She thought he'd kissed her as part of his plan. She thought he'd seduced her purely to make it easier for him to leave the CBI without arousing suspicion. That he'd been lying when he told how he truly felt about her. No wonder she was so upset. She must feel used, cheated. Betrayed.

He'd hurt her. The last thing he'd ever wanted to do was cause her pain, and now he'd done exactly that.

He had to admit, even he the all-knowing Patrick Jane, hadn't seen this one coming. But now it had happened, he couldn't believe that he had been so stupid. Of course he shouldn't have expected her to regard the kiss as a totally separate event to the plan. Her overly suspicious mind had obviously linked the two things together and come to the conclusion that it was all just another ruse. Whenever he did something out-of-character, she always attributed it to an idea, and kissing her in her office was about as out-of-character as he'd ever got.

Boy, he'd been slow out of the gates on this one.

"It's not what you think," he said.

"What isn't?"

"When I kissed you this morning, it had absolutely nothing to do with all this," he said.

It was the first time either of them had acknowledged it since it had happened. In fact, any time they ever shared anything of even a vaguely personal nature, it seemed to instantly become a taboo subject, never to be spoken of again. For instance, they never talked about the time he'd been blinded and had wanted to know what her face felt like when she was smiling. Nor did they ever discuss the time when he'd been anxiously on the phone with her as she tried to disarm a bomb. He recalled calling her name over and over, the panic rising with every second that she didn't answer, and the overwhelming relief when she finally did.

That incident had made it very clear to him that he had become emotionally attached to her, whether he liked it or not. It had been a big moment for him. But they didn't talk about it. So even though she was obviously angry with him today, he couldn't help but view this conversation as a step forward.

"So it was a total coincidence, is that what you're saying?" she said, crossing her arms.

"Yes," he said, glad she was catching on so quickly.

"So you didn't use it to your advantage when you were leaving earlier?" she asked, sarcastically.

He hesitated. "I may have," he said carefully. He could have lied, but it just would've made her angrier when she did find out. Besides, she'd all but decided anyway, and he of all people knew exactly how stubborn she could be. "A good mentalist uses the tools in the world around him," he explained.

A furious glare informed him he had said the wrong thing. "Tools?" she repeated.

Not the best choice of words on his part. Having her bearing down on him like this was making him feel as though he were being interrogated. To negate this effect, he got to his feet and was disheartened when she backed away from him slightly. Even worse, it seemed to have been done unconsciously; her instinct to put distance between them. It was a bad sign.

"I didn't mean it like that," he said. "I'll admit, I did use your distraction to further my own interests this morning, but everything that happened in your office, I meant."

She shook her head, and the anger disappeared, to be replaced by the pain in her eyes, that yet again, he had been the cause of. He wanted to make it go away, and never come back.

"I'm a mark," she said, suddenly.

"What?"

"You once told me that to a carnie, you're either with the show or you're not. And if not, you're a mark, a sucker. Is that what I am to you?"

He never would have imagined his simple plan to incriminate Derek Van Keil might backfire this badly. It was just supposed to be a routine operation to purloin a little evidence. People weren't supposed to get hurt. And he didn't only mean in the physical sense.

"This is all making so much sense to me now," she went on. "I can't believe I never figured this out before."

"First of all, I may have been a carnie once, but I'm not now," he pointed out. "I told you, I gave all that up when I married Angela. And secondly, you are not a mark."

If anything, she was his partner-in-crime most of the time. She was the one who protected him, and defended him and picked up the pieces when things went wrong. She was the one who would tell him time and time again why his latest scheme was not a good idea and not to do it, but without fail, she would be there beside him just in case it all went pear-shaped. For all intents and purposes, she was with the show. She was certainly no mark.

And as of now, it was his intention to make her see that.

* * *

><p>Out in the hall, Castle and Beckett watched as Cho and Esposito wrestled a struggling Van Keil to the front door. Van Keil ranted and threatened them with everyone from his lawyers to Police Internal Affairs to the Governor. Both men took no notice of him, and used their combined strength to make him move faster.<p>

"All your careers are over, do you hear me?" growled Van Keil, straining against the handcuffs on his wrists. "You are going to regret this, every last one of you!"

Cho and Esposito exchanged exasperated looks over Van Keil's head, and then Esposito grinned.

"Better be careful man," he said to Cho, in a mock-worried voice. "He sounds like he means business. Maybe we should go a little easier on him."

"Yeah, maybe," agreed Cho, expressionlessly, but then he nudged Van Keil slightly so his shoulder clipped the wall hard, making him howl with pain. "Or maybe not," he said. Esposito grinned, and Castle thought he saw the corners of Cho's mouth turn up into a smile for just the tiniest moment.

"Police brutality!" shouted Van Keil at once. "He's not allowed to handle me in that way. You all saw it!" He looked around the room for support. Esposito, Beckett and Castle all looked blankly back at him.

"I'm sorry Mr Van Keil, but I didn't see a thing," said Beckett, coolly.

"Neither did I," said Castle.

"And what do you know," said Esposito. "I just happened to have my back turned. How's that for rotten luck, eh?"

Ignoring Van Keil's renewed complaints of corruption, solicitation, and conspiracy, he and Cho hauled him out the door and slammed it shut behind them, leaving Beckett and Castle alone in the corridor.

Chuckling, Castle glanced over at Beckett and saw her inspecting her left arm, on which a couple of fresh bruises had started to spring up.

"You're hurt," he said, reaching for her so he might assess the damage for himself, but she jerked her arm away from him.

"Don't," she said. "It's only a few bumps, it's no big deal."

"But it might have been," he said. "You could have been shot, you could have been killed."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Well maybe you should have thought about that before you and Jane went and broke in to a crazy guy's house without backup," she said.

"In our defence, we didn't _know_ he was a lunatic gun nut when we came up with the idea," Castle said, reasonably. "And the plan was to be in and out of the house before he showed up. We thought we'd have heaps of time, we didn't count on you ending the interview so quickly."

"So this is _my_ fault?" she said, angrily.

"No, not at all!" he said hastily, backpedalling quickly away from this dangerous territory." I'm just saying, it was a contributing factor. I'm sorry," he added as she winced and put her hand to the lump on her head. "Nobody was supposed to get hurt. Especially not you."

"Well I did," she said, bluntly, and he cringed. "And you promised me that you wouldn't do anything reckless while we were here. You promised."

"I'm sorry," he said again. "It was stupid, irresponsible and childish and I shouldn't have done it."

She nodded, but he could tell she didn't really believe him. She thought it was just words. It was one of the few drawbacks of being a wordsmith by reputation. He could say things to her that he meant with every fibre of his being, only to have her think he was just spinning a line. As a writer, he believed inherently in the power of words, but as a person, he also knew that actions spoke louder.

That was the only explanation he could give for what he did next. He reached out and gently traced the lump on her forehead with his fingers. She jumped at his touch, but allowed it. Perhaps this most recent brush with death had blessed him with a new kind of confidence, as he then took it one step further.

He leant forward and, so quickly that she didn't realise it was happening until it was over, he lightly kissed the spot where the lump had formed. He heard her gasp with surprise as he drew away.

He didn't know how she would react to this, but took it as an encouraging sign that she hadn't immediately begun trying to give him the kind of once-over she bestowed on suspects who made the mistake of trying to get fresh with her. In fact, he only saw surprise and confusion in her eyes, and no anger at all.

'What was that for?" she asked him quietly.

"For getting us out of there," he said.

It was for a lot of things. It was because she'd been hurt. It was because he felt guilty. It was because he was thankful she'd come to find him even though she'd been mad. It was because the adrenalin that was still pumping through him made it seem like it wasn't such a crazy risk for him to take. And it was because she was her, brave and intelligent and gorgeous and _wonderful_ and because he had to find some way to show her, because he wasn't allowed to tell her.

If he ever started talking about all the things he loved about Beckett, he didn't think he'd ever be able to stop.

A door opened, and Lisbon walked out of it, followed by Jane. He didn't seem to have anything broken, so apparently Agent Lisbon had been able to contain her anger.

"Nearly done reading him the riot act?" she asked Beckett.

"Pretty much," she replied, and Castle was impressed, but not surprised, to find that her voice was quite steady. "I sent the other two on ahead with Van Keil and one of them will be back to pick us up. We wouldn't have all fit in the car."

Lisbon shrugged. "We should have just rode with them and made these two idiots walk," she said.

"Huh. Why didn't I think of that?" said Beckett.

"Well, you know what they say about hindsight," said Lisbon, throwing a dirty look at Jane.

Beckett looked to both consultants now. "Considering all the trouble you've put us through, you two had better have found something useful, or I may have to punch you both."

Castle knew her well enough to know that she wasn't kidding either. And he for one, was not keen on experiencing Beckett's anger first-hand. He had watched more than enough suspects receive the 'Beckett treatment' to know that he definitely didn't want to be subjected to it himself. And he was sure that Agent Lisbon was no less capable of causing pain.

He and Jane exchanged looks, silently debating over who would do the talking. In the end, it was Jane who took point. "There won't be any need for violence, Detective," he said, with a smile. "As it happens, we did find something."

* * *

><p>Back at the CBI, the two consultants wasted no time in making themselves scarce. Castle mumbled something about wanting a coffee and disappeared in the direction of the breakroom, while Jane immediately retired to his couch and went to sleep. Lisbon was pleased that he'd at least had the sense not to set up camp on the one in her office. She couldn't have been held accountable for her actions if he had, her emotions were so scattered at present.<p>

She tried not to think about what had happened the last time he'd been in her office this morning. It made her want to burst into tears, beat him to a pulp, and shout herself hoarse at him all at the same time. It made her want to walk right up to him and demand to know exactly how he felt about her, even though the knowledge would terrify her, and could only make things weirder between them then they were already.

There was a soft knock on the door and she looked up to see Beckett silhouetted outside it. She waved her NYPD counterpart inside and motioned for her to shut the door behind her.

Beckett took a seat opposite hers and let out a deep sigh, rubbing her temples. Lisbon knew how she felt. In fact, she didn't think she had ever felt this level of empathy with Beckett before now. Finally someone knew, _really_ knew, how it felt to go through every day walking on a knife's edge, their fate dependant on the actions of an unruly consultant, and their own ability to contain the resulting damage.

Plenty of people at the CBI were sympathetic when Jane pulled another crazy stunt. They said things like how sorry they were for her, and how they knew how difficult it must be, but none had even the slightest clue of just how hard it could be. They didn't understand the constant anxiety, the indecision, and the regrets that plagued her every time she was pulled in front of the powers that be to explain away his latest indiscretion.

She wondered if she looked as exhausted as Beckett did right now. Probably. She'd often thought that dealing with Jane every day was aging her prematurely. At this rate, she'd be lucky to make forty before she went mad with despair.

"What a mess," said Beckett now.

"You got that right," Lisbon agreed, though privately, she thought that was a grave understatement. "I'm sorry," she said.

Beckett looked up in surprise. "For what?" she said.

"Jane's my responsibility. I should have known he was up to something, and I have no doubt that he was the instigator of their little outing this morning. If I'd kept closer tabs on him, none of this would have happened. I apologize."

Beckett shook her head, with a hint of a smile.

"Castle's a grown man, or so he keeps telling me," she said. "Jane may be very persuasive, but Castle wouldn't have gone along with it if he didn't want to. Don't make excuses for him."

Lisbon shook her head too.

"We must be the unluckiest people in the world to get lumped with those two," she said.

"It's too bad it took us so long to realize," said Beckett. "Stuck with them now though, aren't we?"

Lisbon chuckled at this, and the two them exchanged a smile. All of a sudden, the tension that was always around when she talked to Beckett seemed to have lightened a fraction. Who knew that all it would take was for their partners to take off on their own and get kidnapped for her and Beckett to finally be able to understand each other better?

As soon as the comfortable moment had appeared, it was gone. They were still two professionals, with a job to do.

"So, what's our next move?" asked Beckett.

"Well, we've got Van Keil down in holding," said Lisbon. "We can keep him for a while if we press charges for the kidnapping. And it's going to take us a little while to run down the number the guys found. It's been traced to a burner phone, so we've got some red tape to untangle before we can track down who it belongs to."

"Maybe we should try and cut a deal with Van Keil," Beckett suggested. "We'll get him to tell us everything he knows about this 'Freemont' in exchange for leniency over the kidnapping."

Lisbon frowned. "I don't like the idea of just letting him walk out of here," she said.

"Nor do I," Beckett agreed. "Personally I'd be happy to throw everything we can at him and then put him jail for the next few years, but it's the only leverage we've got. Besides, he hasn't been absolved of Rebecca's death yet. My gut feeling is that we let this one slide, and then nail him on something bigger later."

Lisbon's first instinct was to refuse this plan. Van Keil had dared to try and harm a member of her team, and in her book, that was an offence punishable by anything up to and including death. From what she had been able to piece together from the two men's accounts of what had happened, it appeared that Jane had been the one in immediate danger. If they'd delayed even one more minute…she felt her heart constrict with horror at the very thought.

Sure, she was mad at her consultant at the moment, and had admittedly entertained the idea several times this morning of causing him great pain, but that didn't mean anyone else was allowed to. As far as she was concerned, she was the only one who had the right to decide when and where he went too far, and how it should be dealt with, and anyone else who even laid a finger on that ridiculously handsome body of his would suffer the consequences.

It was her job to keep him safe after all, and if anything ever happened to him, she'd never forgive herself. And she had no doubt that if Castle had been the one seconds away from death, Beckett would be reacting just the same. But when she calmed down a little, and her common sense began to temper her protective anger, she had to admit Beckett was right. If they played their cards right, Derek Van Keil would still end up in jail eventually, it just might take a little longer. And with luck, he would be serving a nice long sentence to boot.

"You're right," she admitted. Beckett raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't push your luck, Detective. What's the plan?" she asked.

"Well so far, I've only come up with step one," said Beckett seriously.

"And what's that?"

"We beat the crap out of those stupid-ass consultants of ours."

Despite herself, Lisbon felt herself starting to smile.

"That's the best idea I've heard all day."

* * *

><p>Jane opened his eyes after a nice, refreshing nap to behold a curious sight. The blinds on Lisbon's office were open, allowing a fairly good view inside. There she sat, speaking with Beckett but minus the irritation she had in all her other dealings with the detective.<p>

They weren't looking daggers at each other like usual, but somehow seemed more at ease around each other, and unless he were very much mistaken, he would say that Lisbon was actually smiling. Would wonders never cease?

Castle wandered back into the room, scribbling something in his notepad.

"Hey Castle," Jane greeted him. "Can you see what I see?"

Castle capped his pen, and curiously followed Jane's eyeline to Lisbon's office.

"Would you look at that?" he said, as his face broke out into a grin. "It's a miracle."

"Yes," Jane agreed. "Two people who hate each other, brought together by their even greater hatred of us. Miraculous indeed."

Castle chuckled, as he put his notepad back into his pocket.

"So Lisbon didn't come down too hard on you then?" he asked. "You seem to be all in one piece."

"Yes she went a different way from the standard screaming tirade today," said Jane, nonchalantly. "I suppose she has to mix it up a little sometimes so it doesn't get boring. How's Beckett?" he asked.

"A little battered, a little bruised and a _lot_ pissed off," Castle reported. "But she'll get over it. Eventually. She can hold a grudge for a while if she wants to, but if I bring a coffee and grovel for a couple of hours, she'll come around."

"Lisbon never bothers staying mad at me for too long," said Jane. "She says she finds it exhausting, and that I'll inevitably end up irritating her again soon enough anyway."

Castle smirked and took a seat at Rigsby's vacated desk. Jane considered offering him a seat on the couch, but it would have meant he had to sit up, which he didn't particularly feel like doing right now, and he wasn't accustomed to having to share his couch with anyone, except occasionally Lisbon. For some reason when she sat there it felt like pleasant company, and not as though she was encroaching on his personal space. Her presence was soothing.

Castle cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm sorry about your daughter, Patrick."

Jane swallowed hard. He didn't remember ever mentioning Charlotte to Castle. Perhaps Beckett had let it slip. But then he remembered Van Keil's taunts as he held the gun on him. He should've known Castle would notice. "No preliminaries," he said. "Straight to the point. That's interesting."

Castle looked guilty. "Is there any good way to ask about something like that?" he asked.

"Not really," said Jane, sadly.

'How did it happen?" asked Castle, cautiously.

This was it, the moment Jane had been grappling with for days. Was he prepared to dredge up all the grisly details of his past, to relive the horror yet again? He hated to talk about it, it sickened him to even think about it. But if something did end up happening to Castle or his daughter, he would have something else to feel guilty for, knowing he might have had the power to be able to stop it.

And Castle was his friend now, or near enough. Friends looked out for each other's wellbeing, even to their own detriment. Lisbon was living proof of that. She'd been watching his back for years, no matter the heartache he caused her, because she was his friend. The best friend he'd ever had if he were honest, he didn't know what he would do without her.

She sacrificed her morals, her better judgement, her integrity, her good standing among her colleagues, and probably any real chance of furthering her career for him every day. And he had no doubt that if she ever got the chance to throw herself between him and Red John, she'd do it without a moment's hesitation. She looked out for him when nobody else would.

So perhaps it was time to take a leaf out of her book, to put aside his own emotional discomfort in order to help someone else. He wasn't like her. He lacked the quality of total selflessness she possessed. His whole life, he'd never done anything for anyone without ascertaining what was in it for him first. She was the polar opposite. She did everything for everyone without so much as a thought of herself.

If she were here right now, she'd know exactly the right words to say. She'd be more concerned about the worry she was about to cause Castle then the effect it would have on her. She certainly wouldn't have needed to have this internal moral debate to talk herself into it. Put simply, she was a better person than he, Patrick Jane, could ever dream of being. That was why he needed her around; he needed something pure and good in his life, even if just to prove to himself that such a thing were possible.

He took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the tidal wave of emotions that always came forth when he talked about his beloved wife and his precious, innocent little girl, whose only crime was to be unfortunate enough to be related to him. Barely five years old when she'd been taken from him. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right.

"I can't imagine what it must be like," said Castle. "Just the thought of something happening to Alexis…"he trailed off without finishing his sentence. Jane could hardly blame him. He could guess at some of the horrible images flashing through Castle's mind right now.

"Then I suggest you tread carefully from now on," said Jane. "Because the way you're heading, it just might."

Castle looked up, startled. "What?" he said.

"It was about eight years ago," Jane began. "I was at the height of my fame as a psychic. I got caught up in the showbiz life. I liked the shiny suits and the glitz and glamour and hanging with the beautiful people. Basically I was a con man. I got a kick out of hustling people out of their money, and nothing made me happier than when a scam paid off. I was arrogant, and eventually I pissed off the wrong person. And I didn't see it coming."

He paused, and saw the first glimmers of understanding appear on Castle's face.

"Take it from someone who knows," said Jane, miserably. "Don't get into a game with a serial killer. You'll lose." He sighed. "You should step back from the 3XK case."

"I can't do that," said Castle. "It's my fault he's still on the loose in the first place. And I can't abandon Beckett and the others. They need me."

Jane chuckled humourlessly. How many times had he said that to himself and to Lisbon over the years? It had been easier to pretend that they kept him around purely for his skills, rather then because they liked him. That way, when the time came to take out Red John, he would owe them nothing. It had only been recently that he had admitted to himself that he needed the team, and Lisbon in particular, a hell of a lot more than they needed him. He was still working up to saying it to her face however.

"Are you sure about that?" he asked Castle now. "Do you really think that Beckett, Ryan and Esposito can't chase this guy down without you?"

"I want to be there," said Castle stubbornly. "I want to help."

"It takes commitment to track down a serial killer," said Jane. "It's a long, hard slog. Every day is a struggle. And at least I don't have much left that he can take away from me now. But you have a family. Do you really want to put your mother and daughter at risk?"

"Of course not," said Castle. "But the others, they're my family too. Ryan and Esposito are like brothers to me, and Beckett…" Once again, he seemed unable to complete the thought, but Jane understood. Sure, it would be more rational for Castle to disassociate himself with the NYPD for a while until they caught 3XK, but Jane knew from experience that when the head and the heart came to blows, the heart won most of the time. There was no room for rationality when feelings got involved.

He was guilty of the same thing. Instead of doing the smart thing and keeping his distance from Lisbon right from the start, he'd kept letting her in and now he knew he couldn't let her go even if he wanted to.

And Beckett was to Castle what Lisbon was to him.

"I get it," he said. "But just be careful." He waved his hand around to indicate the bullpen. "This is all I have now," he said. "This building, this couch and these four people. Don't let the same thing happen to you."

The door to Lisbon's office opened before Castle could respond, and the two women came out. They both looked tired, he noticed and understandably so. It had been a rough week and he and Castle's disappearing act today probably hadn't done much for their stress levels. He wondered how Lisbon had been sleeping, or if she even had been sleeping at all.

"We're going to offer Van Keil a deal," said Beckett, after she and Lisbon had reached them. "We're going to look the other way on the kidnapping if he helps us track down his hitman friend of his."

"You cannot be serious," said Jane, looking from one to the other. "Forget kidnapping, we should get him for attempted murder, he almost shot me!"

""Let's not forget, you guys did break into his home," said Lisbon wearily. "If this goes to trial, his lawyer will use that to his advantage, and if the jury is in a sympathetic mood, it'll throw the case out."

"So?" said Jane impatiently. "I'll represent us, and convince them to be unsympathetic. I don't care if he brings five Harvard lawyers, I can win us the case. You know I can."

"Jane, I have no doubt that you could outlawyer any Ivy-League educated solicitor in the country. Your brilliance knows no bounds," she said, in a bored voice. "The rest of the human race can never hope to compete with your superior intelligence. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Partly," he said. The compliments had been music to his ears, but the tone, not so much. Still upset with him then, though he could hardly say he was surprised.

"That's not the point," Beckett broke in. "At the end of the day, Lisbon and I are in charge and _we_ make these decisions. End of story."

She spoke with a finality that convinced Jane against arguing further. More importantly, something was wrong here. Why wasn't Lisbon the one putting him in his place, like usual? Why was she all of a sudden OK with Beckett taking the lead, when she'd been struggling for dominance all week? It didn't add up,

"So are you going to head down and interview him now?" asked Castle.

"No, we thought we'd keep him in holding overnight, let him get a little taste of jail before we talk to him. It might make him more inclined to cooperate."

"Oh, that's vindictive," said Castle with a grin. "I like it."

Beckett sighed, and stretched her arms up over her head. "It's been a long day," she said. "Let's head out for the night."

The others had trickled in during this conversation and greeted this announcement with tired smiles, as they prepared to leave. Lisbon returned to her office for her things, nodded to Beckett and Castle and was out the door within minutes.

Her concern for her grew even more potent as the elevator doors closed. She wasn't acting like herself. The Teresa Lisbon he knew would never ever be the first to leave, under any circumstance. And she'd barely even glanced at him as she left; she never ignored him like that.

He wanted to chase after her, but didn't. Obviously, she needed space and if he really wanted to find her later, he knew where she'd be. At the range, drowning her emotions in a flurry of bullets.

Personally, he'd had enough of guns for one day.

* * *

><p>Beckett sat on the couch in her hotel room, dressed in sweats and watching a cooking programme on TV. She never had the time or energy to cook such exquisite things, but she liked to watch the shows anyway. She liked the way the meals always looked so perfect and deceptively simple at the end, belying the hard work that had gone into making them.<p>

There was a knock on the door. Yawning, she got up to answer it. She opened it to reveal a huge bouquet of flowers. The flowers were jostled and Castle's head appeared from behind them.

"Hi," he said. "For you."

Automatically, she reached for them, partly because she thought he might fall over. They were heavy. She didn't want to think about how much they had cost him. Obviously this was supposed to make her forgive him, but she wasn't about to make it that easy for him. Her head still hurt, despite his earlier attempt to 'kiss it better.'

"Thanks Castle," she said, calmly. "They're nice. I'll see you in the morning."

She made to close the door, fighting back a smile at his aghast face.

"You can't go yet," he said hastily. "The flowers are only half of it."

She paused. "Oh really?" she said. "And what's the other half?"

"I was thinking," he said. "Instead of sitting around on your couch and watching cooking shows," she flushed, she'd never mentioned that to him. "Why don't we go and actually eat some? I know a guy who owns this great restaurant a few blocks away, and I pulled some strings and got us a table." He beamed at her, apparently very pleased with himself.

"Castle, we're supposed to be here to work, not live it up in fancy restaurants."

"I know, I know, but trust me, the food's amazing. And besides, you are allowed to take a break every now and then," he said, persuasively.

She folded her arms, and glared at him. "So you're trying to _buy_ my forgiveness, is that it? I'm not one of your bimbos Castle."

"I know you're not," he said, the grin disappearing again. "I just thought that if we had a nice evening together, you might be more disposed to believe me this time when I tell you how sorry I am. Come on, you can't lose here, you get to have a great meal, and to watch me grovel at your feet all night. What do you say?"

She hesitated. She really should say no, but she was pretty hungry, and she did like the idea of having him beg for forgiveness.

"You're paying," was all she said, as she walked back inside to get ready. She thought she heard a muffled 'yes!' as she riffled through her suitcase for something to wear and smiled slightly. She knew she'd end up forgiving him in the end, but she might as well milk it a little first.

An hour later, they were ensconced at a table near the back of Castle's friend's restaurant. He'd been right, the starter had been delicious and now they were waiting for the mains to come out.

She felt very underdressed. All she'd had to wear was her work clothes, so she felt distinctly out-of-place among all the other women in cocktail dresses and in one case, a gown that looked as though it had cost more than she made in a year. Maybe she should start packing nicer clothes when she went out of town for work now, with Castle around, she could never be sure what might happen.

"I hate this," she said to Castle. "Look at all these people, and look at me. I stick out like a sore thumb."

He chuckled. "Don't worry," he said. "You look fine. And anyway, Todd doesn't care."

Todd Myles, the owner had turned out to be a very pleasant man. He'd met them at the door and showed them to their table himself. She'd noticed many heads turning in their direction as they wended their way through tables and chairs, and had tried her best not to make eye contact with anyone. As if she weren't embarrassed enough by her attire, arriving with Richard Castle had seemed to give everyone licence to judge her as much as they chose.

_"You're not worthy,"_ they all seemed to be saying._ "What's a best-selling author doing wasting his time with the likes of you?"_

She was being paranoid, she knew. Castle would never think of her like that, but whenever they did things like crash society fundraisers or whiz around town in his Ferrari, she always felt like an interloper in his glittering world. She didn't belong among the New York elite, she felt much more comfortable in a grimy police station with her boys, bad coffee, and takeout.

"What's wrong?" he asked her now. "Plotting more ways to make me suffer?"

She smiled. "Not exactly. Though I'm not saying I forgive you," she added, in mock-seriousness.

He smirked. "Just wait until dessert comes out," he said. "It'll blow your mind. I remember the last time I had Todd's seven-layer mud cake I ended up having a bonafide foodgasm."

"A foodgasm?" she repeated.

"Yeah, and let me tell you it was way more satisfying then the girl I was with that night," he said. "God, she was boring. And in more ways than one-ow!" he added as she smacked on the arm. "I was kidding!"

"I don't need to hear about your various sexual misdeeds," she said. "I can just read about them in the Ledger. Or the Post. Or the Times. Or some trashy tabloid magazine."

"Yes, yes very funny," he said grumpily, but with a twinkle in his eye. "I'll have you know that I lead a colourful and highly illustrious life."

"Colourful, yes. Illustrious, hardly. More like depraved."

"Now I know you're feeling better," he chuckled. "The insults are flying once again."

"I don't know why I bother," she said. "It's not like you even listen to a word I say."

"Yes, and you know why?" he asked. "Because I'm rubber and you're glue, and anything you say bounces off me and sticks to you."

"Oh real mature," she said, rolling her eyes. "Let me just get Todd and find out if he has any kid's meal options you can have."

"Only if I get to have some crayons too," he quipped, and they both chuckled quietly to themselves.

"Seriously though," he said after a while, no longer laughing. "I really am sorry about what happened today. It was never supposed to turn out that way. I know you were worried, and that I broke my promise to you, and I swear it won't happen again."

And she believed him. All the anger and resentment flew out of her head as he gazed into her eyes. In fact, all thoughts seemed to be temporarily postponed. She would've agreed to pretty much anything he asked her right now.

"OK," she said. "I forgive you."

They exchanged smiles, and she felt better. She never liked having to be mad at him, but sometimes he could be such an idiot that she just had no choice. But she knew that his intentions were always good and his heart was in the right place, he just went about things the wrong way.

They were interrupted as a smartly-dressed waitress arrived with the main meals. She put them down on the table, and glided silently away.

"So what brought on this sudden surge of remorse?" Beckett asked, picking up her fork.

"Something Jane said today. It got me thinking."

"What was it?"

Castle chewed thoughtfully on a piece of steak. "He told me about his family," he said. "Or enough for me to string the story together for myself."

"It's so tragic," Beckett agreed. She at least knew that it hadn't been her fault when her mother had died. Admittedly, it had taken her a few years to arrive at that conclusion, but Jane didn't even have that comfort. He would feel responsible for their deaths for the rest of his life. It must be such a burden for him, not to mention a burden for Agent Lisbon as well. Beckett strongly suspected that the reason Jane had managed to keep his head above water all this time had a lot to do with his partner.

She felt a sudden sympathy for Lisbon. It must be awful to see him in pain every day and not be able to help him.

"It just made me think," Castle continued. "In the work we do-"

"I do," she corrected him. "And you pretend to do."

"Stop it," he said. "I'm trying to be serious here. Anyway, in the work we do, anything can happen. Jane was totally blindsided when his family was killed. The same thing could happen to us so easily, and we don't even think about it."

"This is pretty heavy dinner conversation," she remarked, taking a sip of wine.

"It just made me think, I've got so much more to lose now," he said. "I have Alexis and Mother, and the guys and Lanie. And you." He paused. "It's dangerous what we're doing right now, and if something happens I don't want us to still be arguing. I don't want to have any regrets."

She'd never seen him like this before. He was usually begging to be allowed to join them at crime scenes and on busts, rather than confronting his own mortality.

"You don't have to do this work," she told him. "You can walk away whenever you like. You must have plenty of material for as many books as you want."

He shook his head. "It's not just about the books anymore."

Before she could ask him more about this intriguing statement, further distraction arrived, this time in the shape of Todd, who paused by their table to see how they liked the food.

Instantly, Castle dropped his introspective manner and turned on the charm. Though curious, Beckett decided to let the matter rest for now and the two of them spent the rest of the meal in laughter and bickering.

* * *

><p>Alone in the firing range, Lisbon emptied magazine after magazine, not even bothering to change the paper until she'd blasted the first one to smithereens. It was therapeutic just to fire, fire, fire away without having to pause and think.<p>

A little creative visualisation had been employed as she imagined Jane's face on the target's head as she sprayed it with bullets, but by the end, she wasn't even mad anymore, at least not at him.

She was furious with herself. All the years they'd been working together, she knew Jane. She knew he was a liar, a manipulator, a trickster. She knew his moral compass was practically non-existent. She knew he had no qualms about doing whatever it took to get what he wanted.

And still, she believed he could change. She wanted him to heal so badly, she refused to accept the evidence in front of her own eyes. And she knew she'd never stop. She'd keep giving him chances, making excuses for him until one of both of them were dead.

It was tearing her up inside, knowing that he was beyond her power to fix. She wasn't asking for miracles here, she just wanted him to find some peace. Because only when he found peace would she find it too.

That was how it worked when you fell for somebody. Their happiness was yours, their misery was yours and so was everything in between.

She didn't want to forgive him for his deception today, yet she knew she would. She didn't want to consign herself to worrying about him for the rest of their lives, and yet she already had, years ago. She didn't want to love him, and yet she did, and always would.

And it pissed her off.

* * *

><p>After finishing the seven-layer mud cake (and she had to admit, Castle had been right, it had been one of the most decadent things she'd ever tasted) Beckett and Castle left the restaurant. She'd made a point not to look at the bill when it came, she didn't want to know how many dinners they could have had at Remy's for the same price.<p>

They walked slowly back to the hotel in the cool night air, and once again she began to wonder what Castle had been thinking about before Todd had interrupted them earlier. It wasn't very often he became totally serious about anything, and she was still curious.

"Castle?"

"Hm?"

"Why isn't it just about the books anymore?"

Castle cleared his throat nervously, and determinedly fixed his eyes on the flashing lights on the crosswalk, so he wouldn't have to look at her.

"I told you," he said. "You guys are my friends now. You're important to me."

"Oh." Of course that was it. What else would she have expected it to be? Was she expecting him to tell her that he stayed around just for her? Did she even want him to say that?

"Although," he went on, and she looked up. "Some people are important to me in different ways then others."

She tried not to read too much into what he was saying, even though she could feel her heart rate starting to quicken.

"You're all my friends," he said. "But some are on another shall we say _level_, then others. There's some that I look forward to seeing every day, and there's some I look forward to seeing, and also miss when they're not around."

"Right," she said, not trusting herself to say anything else, and nothing more was said until they reached the hotel. They took the elevator upstairs and Castle walked her to her room.

"Thanks for tonight," she said to him, when they reached her door. "Surprisingly, I had a really good time with you."

"Hey!" he protested. "I'm always a good time. I'm great fun, ask anyone!"

She chuckled. "Goodnight Castle."

"Goodnight," he said with a soft smile, before walking down the corridor towards his own room. As she swiped her key card, he let out an audible sigh.

"What's wrong?" she asked. He stopped in his tracks and turned back around to face her.

"Is this all we're ever going to be?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"You know, weird awkward looks, and 'nondates' and vague conversations about 'some' and 'others?' Going along every day like we're just platonic pals."

"Of course we're friends, what else would we be?"

He moved so fast she didn't even see it. One moment he was standing halfway down the corridor, and the next, he had her in his arms, giving her a hard, passionate kiss.

It wasn't like their first kiss for Lockwood's security guard. There was no tenderness. It was a fiery kiss, an angry kiss. He held her in a vice-like grip, as though to prevent her from trying to escape. Almost as quickly as it started, it was over, and he released her.

"I would be anything you wanted me to be, Beckett," he said, through soft pants. "I would do anything for you. Any time. And it kills me that you don't know that."

"I know it," she said softly. "I've always known it."

And she had. She might refuse to acknowledge it, but she knew he liked her. She wasn't stupid, and the man was about as subtle as a gun. She just didn't know how to handle it.

"Good," he said. "Because you should know that everything about you drives me crazy, from your smile to your six-inch heels. And if you don't feel the same way about me, then that's fine. But please don't belittle me by saying we're just friends. I can be your friend, but I'll never be able to be _just_ your friend."

A heavy silence filled the air after this pronouncement. A silence she was apparently expected to fill.

"Castle," she said softly. "I'm with Josh."

Technically that was still true, even though the message from the other day seemed to indicate their relationship was coming to an end.

"I know," he said. "And if it weren't Josh, it'd be someone else. There's _always_ someone else. And the moment one's out of the picture, another ten more are just waiting to take his place."

His voice was filled with pain, and she wondered how long he had been feeling like this. Of course, she'd known he'd never particularly liked the men she dated, but she'd had no idea it was to this extent.

"It's your life," he said. "And you can do whatever you want with it. I don't want to pressure you into anythng. But I just need you to know, you have options, and I'll still be here for you, whatever you decide."

"Can you promise that?" she asked. She didn't want to lose him as her partner, and if she couldn't give him what he wanted, how could she be sure he would be OK with that?

"I can promise it. I might need to back off a little for a while but ultimately, I want to be where you are, no matter what happens."

The elevator pinged and a young couple stepped out of it, sending curious glances their way as the proceeded to their own room.

As the door closed behind them, Castle cleared his throat.

"Goodnight," he said again, "Kate."

"Goodnight, Rick."

He leaned forward and kissed her forehead again. "If you want me say it, I'll say it. Right here and now."

She was in no doubt what 'it' was. And she couldn't have him say it right now. She wasn't ready for 'it'. She was still with someone else. She didn't have a clue how she was feeling. So she gently extricated herself from his arms, and let herself into her room.

She closed the door behind her.

* * *

><p><strong>I didn't intend for this chapter to come out quite this angsty, but here it is. At least Caskett have had a kiss now, so they're on par with Jisbon now. Hope you enjoyed.<strong>


	11. The Power Of Suggestion

**More of the same for this A/N. Thanks for reviewing, I own nothing, T rating, yada, yada, yada.**

**Enjoy!**

A total of five targets met their bullet-ridden demise before Lisbon felt like she was ready to stop. A glance at her watch told her it was getting kind of late, and the range had officially closed for business hours ago. Luckily, she had come to an understanding with Chris the manager a few years ago, after arriving in hysterics one afternoon fuming about Jane's latest exploit.

Chris had taken her into his office, made her a cup of strong coffee, and listened patiently as she ranted and raved and cursed her consultant to the seventh circle of hell and back. Eventually, when she'd raged herself into silence, he told her that he'd heard other agents gossiping about Jane when they came in for target practice, and that from what he had heard, he wasn't surprised she was close to breaking point.

He'd had a key cut for her that very day and told her she was welcome to come whenever she needed to blow off a little steam. Unsurprisingly, she had become a frequent visitor.

Tonight, she stowed away the gun and her unused bullets, scribbled a quick thank-you note to Chris like always, and then stepped out into the night, locking the door behind her.

Her SUV sat alone in the parking lot, the moonlight winking off the shiny paintjob. She looked forward to getting home, taking a nice long shower, and changing into some fresh clothes that weren't covered in gunshot residue. She'd only gone a few steps when her senses alerted her that she was not alone. There was another presence in the parking lot; she could feel it. She looked carefully around with her hand hovering over her holster, ready to draw her weapon.

Suddenly, a shadowy figure loomed out of the darkness to her left.

"Hey," it said, and she automatically grabbed for her Glock.

"Hold your fire, Lisbon," said the figure exasperatedly. "It's just me."

Jane's voice, clear and unmistakeable. But what was he doing here?

The figure took a step forward, activating the security light, which flooded the area with light. Patrick Jane was thrown into sharp relief, with both his hands at shoulder height, and the beginnings of a smile playing at his lips.

Now satisfied that she was in no danger, she re-holstered the Glock again, and glared sternly at her consultant.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she demanded, without preamble. "Don't sneak up me when I've got my gun. I could've shot you."

He chuckled. "Two problems with that, Lisbon," he said, lightly. "Number one, there are very few occasions when you are not carrying two or more firearms, so the chances of me finding you unarmed are remote. And number two, as accomplished a shooter you are, even you couldn't hope to hit me when it's pitch-dark."

'I can try," she retorted. "What are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be locked away in the attic brooding right now?"

"I want to talk," he said sincerely.

"Can't it wait until tomorrow?" she asked. "Because I really don't have the energy for your jackassery tonight." She hoped he would take the hint. He didn't.

"It's important," he persisted.

"OK fine," she said, thinking it was probably best to just hear whatever he had to say and get it over with. She could stand here arguing with him all night, but she'd have ended up doing it in the end anyway. "What is it?"

"Not here," he said. "Why don't we head to your place and talk about it there?"

Only once had Jane ever been to her apartment, when she'd been accused of murdering McTeer the child molester last year. She'd only invited him out of sheer desperation to try and unblock her memories and prove her innocence, but it had made her uncomfortable to having him wandering around, examining all her stuff, making judgements and assumptions about her. Though prepared to put up with his crap anywhere else they went, her apartment should be her sanctuary, her one respite, where she could have peace.

"Just spit it out," she said impatiently. "Nobody's around, it's not like we're going to be overhead."

"Please Lisbon," he beseeched her. "It's not something I want to discuss out in the open, and I really need your help."

She scowled. He'd done it now. To have him standing before her with those sad eyes and his usual smile gone and literally begging for her help was her kryptonite. She couldn't stand to see him vulnerable and helpless, as though the burden of the world had suddenly become too much for him and he was drowning under the strain.

It was moments like this that made her realise that she'd never be able to cut out when the going got tough. In the early years, she'd always told herself that if it ever became too much, nobody would blame her if she threw him to the wolves, but as time went on, and she got to know him better and to understand more about the pain he suffered, she knew she couldn't do it.

Maybe it was partly because she was stubborn and didn't like to fail, so she kept on trying. But mostly it was because she couldn't bring herself to be another person in his life that had failed him, like his father, who had abused his son's extraordinary skill in order to help him con and deceive. Or Sophie Miller who thought she'd been able to reach him in the psychiatric hospital, but never truly had. All she'd done was teach him how to compartmentalize all the conflicting emotions and make him focus on one: revenge. And then she'd let him back into the world with his new mentality, (not intentionally she was sure) confident that he was not a danger to the general public, but apparently failing to see just how dangerous he was to himself.

Sometimes Lisbon wondered if he wouldn't be better off in psychiatric care. Of course, it sickened her to think of him in locked rooms with nothing to do but let his thoughts eat away at him, but at least there he would be safe. But it seemed she was the only one who saw this.

To most people, he was just a man, arrogant, but charming, and so brilliant and practically able to perform miracles just by observation. Those who knew him better, like the rest of their team, sometimes caught a glimpse of the ruthless, calculating would-be killer within that he tried to keep hidden, and occasionally wondered which side he was really on. As for her, whom he had confided the most to about his past, she saw it all, the good and the bad. She also saw the things everyone else missed, like his fondness for classical music, and way he lit up around children. She loved to watch him interact with kids; it was like he became a different person. The years and the anguish just fell away. His eyes seemed to brighten, and the smile got even wider, if possible.

In those tiny fleeting moments, she saw the man he had once been, and he was worth saving.

"Fine," she said now. "Follow me back to my place."

* * *

><p>Jane saw the taillights of Lisbon's car turn a corner as they made their way to her apartment. Thus far, his plan was going smoothly. He'd known going in that persuading her to let him come to her place was going to take some time. Fortunately, he'd also known that if he painted a good enough picture of wretchedness and self-doubt, she wouldn't be able to resist. She just couldn't fight the inherent urge to make his supposed problems her own, and to try and 'fix' what simply wasn't fixable.<p>

A thought had come to him an hour ago, as he'd been engaging in some quiet reflection in the attic (or to use Lisbon's word 'brooding.) Lisbon didn't look well. Not ill exactly, but run-down, drained of energy. He hadn't consciously noticed it until she'd left the CBI this evening, but as he thought back on the several times he'd seen her up close today, he realized he should have seen it a lot earlier. Her skin was pale and drawn, her eyes slightly red. She moved just a fraction slower than usual, and her whole demeanour was distinctly careworn. He knew the symptoms of sleep deprivation when he saw them, having quite extensive experience in that area himself.

It was probably a justifiable call that he himself had a fair bit to do with her insomnia; he did put her under an enormous amount of stress and that was just on a normal day. Today, everything had gone topsy-turvy and it was taking its toll on her.

It seemed her whole life was a big game of give and take. She would give all of herself over to doing to the right thing, and the rest of the world did nothing but take, take, take from her. He wanted to do something for her, give her something for a change. Something only he could give.

He arrived just after her, and she was already letting herself in as he illegally parked his car, but that was no matter, he wouldn't be staying long. He watched her enter the apartment but leave the door ajar for him, and smiled to himself. When he got inside, she was waiting for him, hands on hips.

"OK, Jane," she said, as he closed the door behind him. "What is so important and so secret that we had to do this here?"

"It's hard for me to talk about," he said, in a long-suffering voice. "You're the only one I can go to."

"And it couldn't wait until morning?" she asked, irritably. "What if I'd had plans?"

There was a silence, as neither dared to say what they were both thinking; outside of work, she never had plans.

"You're right," he said sadly, and her eyebrow twitched in surprise. "I shouldn't be bothering you with it. I might as well just head back to the CBI." It was a stone-cold bluff of course, for he had no intention of leaving just yet. It was a risky move as she could easily just order him out of the house, but he knew Lisbon and her tender heart; she could never handle seeing anyone in pain.

Sure enough, she took the bait. "There's no point you leaving now," she said, still a little snappishly. "Not after you've gone so far out of your way. It must be important."

"Are you sure? I don't want to put you out." He laid the fake suffering on thick, and for good measure, gave a tiny little half-smile as well as though it took great strength through his supposed turmoil to give her even that much.

It worked. Her expression softened and her eyes filled with concern. "I'm still angry with you," she said, though with far less venom than previously. "But if something's really bothering you, you know you can always come to me, right?"

He nodded, but at the same time felt a little bad for deceiving her again. Lying to her just wasn't the same as lying to everyone else. He always felt a prickle of guilt as he looked into those beautiful eyes that he never felt any other time.

"I can't guarantee I'll be sympathetic if you've done something stupid," she went on, with a small smile. "And I reserve the right to throw things at you if you deserve it."

"Duly noted."

"But I'll listen."

"I know," he said. "Thank you."

"Why don't you go sit down in the living room?" she suggested. "I'll make you some tea."

He smiled to himself as she left the room. She hardly ever drank tea, and certainly not often enough to justify her keeping a stock at home. He suspected it had been bought for his benefit, in case he ever decided to drop by unannounced, like today. That was Lisbon, prepared for every eventuality.

He glanced around the living room as he waited for her to return with the tea. Everything looked exactly the same as it had when he'd last been here a year ago, as if the passage of time didn't apply to this room at all. The same cluster of photographs depicting her four brothers. He wondered if she ever intended to update them. The same CD's, the same books. He knew she didn't like to spend a lot of time here, the CBI was where she was happiest, but it was sad to imagine her coming home to this emptiness each night.

Of course, it was infinitely superior to the long-stay motel where he slept, but he felt he deserved his crappy 'living' (though he used the term loosely) arrangements. He had to atone for all the terrible things he'd done.

She came back into the room holding a cup of tea, which she handed to him and then settled herself on the couch next to him. She sighed as she sat down, and rubbed her eyes.

"OK," she said, as he took a sip of tea. "What did you want to talk about?"

He held out the tea. "Want some?" he offered. "It'll help you sleep."

She snorted, but accepted the cup nonetheless. He waited for her to take a sip, and then he began to speak. But he didn't talk about his past, or his plans. Instead he spoke of warmth and relaxation and safety. He told her to let herself fall into it. He counted backwards from 100.

He knew she didn't approve when he used hypnosis at work. She said it was unethical, and illegal. He supposed she was right, but it was also a damn good way to get information out of reluctant people. There weren't many moments outside the CBI that called for hypnosis, but every now and then he made an exception. He knew she hadn't been sleeping, knew she hadn't had more than a couple of hours over the past week. It was starting to catch up with her. Being a mentalist tended to create a lot more problems than it solved, but this was something he could fix for her, and he owed it to her to do so.

It didn't take long to put her under. She was so exhausted her mental threshold was lower than usual. After only a minute, her eyes began to close, and he took the cup of tea out of her hands and placed it on the coffee table. She was asleep within moments of him taking it from her, and her head fell onto his shoulder. He let her stay there for a while, enjoying the human contact, and feeling her soft breaths tickling his neck. He could've happily stayed there all night and watched her sleep, but after about twenty minutes, knew he should go. Reluctantly, he guided her off his shoulder and stood up, setting a cushion under her head instead. She murmured something in her sleep, and he wondered what she was dreaming about.

He tapped her shoulder once, to bring her out of the trance part, and into a true sleep. She would wake in the morning refreshed, and hopefully with no recollection that this had even happened. She was beautiful when she slept. That was the last thing he thought of as he quietly slipped out of the door.

He went to his place for a change of clothes, before heading back to the CBI to spend the night there as usual. The nighttimes cleaning crew didn't so much as glance up as he walked inside at a few minutes to midnight. A handful of agents working the graveyard shift nodded to him as he passed, but nobody bothered him as he lay down on his couch. People were used to his routine by now, they considered him a part of the furniture.

It took him a while to settle, but he must have slept at some point because all of a sudden, the sun was pouring in through the window, and it was uncomfortably warm where he lay. It must still be quite early. There was no chatter from the bullpen, or the hiss of the coffeemaker to break the silence. He could hear the cars on the street below, and once a horn blared as an unseen person lost their patience with the Sacramento morning traffic snarl. He was contemplating getting up and raiding the communal fridge for a snack, when he heard the ping of the elevator, and approaching footsteps.

He listened intently to those footsteps. Not heavy enough for Cho, Rigsby or any of the guys from the NYPD. Not stilettos, so probably not Beckett. He didn't hear a bag be put down on a desk, so not Van Pelt, which left only one possibility. He kept his eyes closed as Lisbon's footsteps came closer, finally stopping when she was standing right next to him. He didn't have to look to know she was there. He could feel it.

"I know you're not asleep," she said. "And I know what you did."

He remained impassive, but couldn't help wondering if she really did know what had happened last night or if she was just pretending in the vain hope he'd spill the beans.

"Next time you want to be in someone's house without them knowing it, try cleaning up after yourself," she said, with a hint of a smile in her voice.

What was she on about? He hadn't touched anything while he'd been there, except for the cup of tea she'd made for him. Which he remembered now, he had left on the coffee table. She must have found it this morning and extrapolated from that. Clever girl. He tried not to smirk, but she must have seen his mouth twitch because she chuckled to herself.

"You know how I feel about hypnosis," she said sternly. "But I suppose I can let it slide, just this once."

She was quiet for a moment, and he thought she would walk away, but instead to his great surprise, he felt her hair brush against his skin as she leant down towards him, and then she gently kissed his cheek. He would have loved to turn his head and capture her lips with his own instead, but resisted the urge. They had to work up to couch make-out sessions; he needed to be patient until they were both ready to take that step.

Besides, he wasn't going to start something here, now, when they were guaranteed to be interrupted. If they ever did manage to make it to that point, he did not intend to be rushed. He wanted seclusion, and hours and hours of time to devote to making it as satisfying in reality as it was in his imagination.

"Thanks," she whispered, and then she walked away. Jane made a mental note to himself that if he were going to be rewarded like that every time he hypnotised her, he should really try and start making it a regular thing.

* * *

><p>Castle arrived at the CBI to find Lisbon making herself a coffee. She looked brighter this morning than he had ever seen her; she was practically glowing. Half her luck. Of course, it was unlikely that she'd had her heart stomped on by the love of her life twelve hours earlier. And why? Because he was sure she wouldn't be that stupid.<p>

In all honesty, what had he expected Beckett to do? Fall into his arms like a woman in a rom-com and say that of course she loved him too and that they should get married immediately because she couldn't live another day without him? Get on the phone and break it off with Josh right away so the two of them could spend the rest of the night making sweet, passionate love?

Of course not, he told himself stubbornly. He knew her better than that.

So what had he expected then?

More than this, he answered himself. A smile. An answer, instead of a million more questions. He hadn't seen her since their conversation in the corridor. The whole time they'd been here, they'd met in the hotel restaurant for breakfast every morning before heading to the CBI. This morning he hadn't been able to face it. In fact, the very thought of eating made him sick.

As soon as she arrived though, the game would be up. He wouldn't be able to hide from her anymore. Also, he wouldn't be able to hide from Jane, whose sharp eyes would certainly notice that something was amiss.

"Hey Castle," Lisbon greeted him as she reached for sugar.

"Morning Lisbon," he said. "You look well."

She smiled. "Good night's sleep. How about you?"

"Not so much."

She eyed him curiously for a moment, but didn't pursue it. "Where's Beckett?" she asked.

Castle was saved from answering by the arrival of the elevator, out of which stepped the woman in question, Esposito, Ryan and Cho. The moment she saw Lisbon, Beckett made a beeline for her. Castle felt his stomach twist into knots with every step she took.

"Ready to break Van Keil?" Beckett asked, without preamble.

"Absolutely," said Lisbon. "Let's see if he enjoyed his stay in the Holding Cell Grand. I'll just go grab the case file from my office and get someone to bring him in to an interview room."

She left, and for the first time, Beckett seemed to notice Castle was there. The air seemed to be humming with tension.

"Hey," she said softly.

"Hey."

"How was the rest of your night?"

Terrible. Torturous. Torment. All of the above.

"Fine. Yours?"

"Yeah, fine."

He hated this. They were talking like complete strangers. This was exactly what he hadn't wanted to happen. He didn't want his desire for something more to jeopardise what they already had. And now here they were, making the kind of polite, disinterested conversation you might have with a random at the bus stop. It just wasn't right.

Mercifully, Lisbon reappeared at that moment. "Ready Beckett?" she asked. "Castle, do you want to watch from the viewing room?"

"I'll catch up," he said. Lisbon raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, gestured to Beckett, and the two of them exited the room. Castle saw Beckett glance back over her shoulder at him once or twice as she left. He didn't dare meet her eye, he was too nervous about what he would find there.

"Something happened between you two, didn't it?"

Castle nearly jumped out of his skin as Jane's voice spoke to him from just behind his shoulder. He must have gotten off the couch and made his way over while he'd been preoccupied with Beckett. He dropped into a chair and took a deep breath.

"We kissed."

"Right," said Jane, but without any real surprise, so Castle assumed that he must have guessed. "And what else?"

"Nothing else," said Castle hurriedly, but Jane smirked, and shook his head.

"Come on man," he said. "You two are more awkward with each other than ten-year olds at a school dance. That can't have been it, what else happened?"

"What else happened was that I opened my stupid, idiotic big mouth," said Castle, deciding not to bother with evasion anymore; it was a pointless exercise anyway. "If I'd had half a brain I would've quit while I was ahead but oh no, not me. Richard Castle doesn't think before he speaks, he just lets his mouth kick in before his brain and goes and on and on and-"

Jane cleared his throat loudly, cutting off Castle's self-loathing rant. To his surprise he found he felt a little better for getting it all off his chest.

'You told her, didn't you?" Jane asked, in the sudden silence. "How you feel?"

Castle nodded glumly. "More or less." He hadn't actually said the three magic words, but he was pretty sure he'd gotten the point across nonetheless.

"And how'd she take it?" asked Jane. "What did she say?"

"Well put it this way," said Castle. "It ended with her closing the door in my face."

Jane winced. "That's rough."

Castle sighed, and rubbed his temples. "Say it," he said. "I'm a moron."

"You're a moron," repeated Jane obligingly. Castle glared at him.

"Thanks a lot."

Jane shrugged. "Well, what did you expect me to say?" he asked. "Your timing could have been better, she was already pissed off at you anyway, and add on to that the fact she already has a boyfriend-"

"Yes, OK, OK," Castle interrupted grumpily before Jane could list any more of his shortcomings. If he'd been hoping for support on this, he was obviously looking in the wrong place. "And what makes you the expert anyway?" he snapped. "I don't see women throwing themselves at you all day either."

Jane held up his left hand to show his wedding ring. 'This makes a fairly effective repellent," he said, and Castle immediately felt guilty.

"Sorry," he said shortly.

There was a brief pause. In the silence, he could hear what sounded like Rigsby cursing at the coffeemaker in the next room.

"For what it's worth," said Jane quietly. "I think it took guts."

"Thanks," he said. He'd rather throw himself between her and a hundred more murderers than have to go through those few minutes again. "On the upside, I don't think she's mad at me anymore."

"Mm, spontaneous love confessions do tend to help speed forgiveness along," said Jane.

"You and Lisbon back on speaking terms yet?" asked Castle. Jane smiled mysteriously.

"We're good," he said.

Lisbon did seem to be rather happy this morning, thought Castle. Suspiciously so, now he came to think about it. And Jane looked even more pleased with himself than usual. They hadn't. Had they?

Before he could ask, Cho appeared around the corner.

"Shouldn't you two be in interrogation?" he asked, eyeing them coldly. Castle got to his feet.

"Right you are Cho," said Jane good-naturedly. "We're just heading there now." And he led the way out of the room.

* * *

><p>It transpired that his night in lock-up had not agreed with Van Keil at all, thought Beckett as she and Lisbon entered the interrogation room. He was already there, looking tired and angry, glaring at them both as they took their seats.<p>

"I trust you were comfortable last night?" Lisbon asked him. "Sorry we couldn't get you a private cell, but we're a little tight on space right now, what with the budget cuts and everything."

"I could give your superiors a few suggestions to cut costs," sneered Van Keil. "They could fire you and your team for a start."

"I don't think so," said Lisbon. "They'd have to pay out five severance packages, and the State just doesn't have that kind of spare cash lying around."

Van Keil opened his mouth to retort, but Beckett cut him off in the hope that they could proceed beyond simply exchanging thinly veiled insults for the next hour.

"Let's get down to business," she said. "We have a proposition for you Mr Van Keil, but this is a one-time offer, so listen carefully. We're going to pretend that you didn't hold two government employees against their will, and at gunpoint, not to mention the fact that you attacked four more and we're also prepared to forget that you resisted arrest."

'Oh really?" said Van Keil, looking as though he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "And what exactly do you want in exchange for this generous offer?"

"You're going to introduce us to your good friend Freemont," said Beckett. "You're going to tell us his real name, and how we can find him."

"And if I don't?"

"Then we'll charge you with kidnapping, assault police, resisting arrest, and obstruction of a criminal investigation," Lisbon reeled off. "So if we add all that up, you'll be spending quite a long time in state prison."

"And let me tell you, last night will have been a picnic compared to a jail term," said Beckett.

"You have no proof that I hired anyone to kill my wife," said Van Keil. "At least not anything admissible thanks to Starsky and Hutch back there," he flicked his eyes at the mirror behind their heads.

"We will find this guy, with your help or not," said Lisbon. "And when we do, how do you know he won't throw you under the bus? In my experience, most hitmen aren't the most honourable of souls."

Van Keil swallowed nervously.

"The way I see it, you've got two options," said Lisbon. "Either you deal with us, or you take your chances with him. What's it to be?"

Fifteen minutes later, Lisbon and Beckett left the interrogation room, both with small triumphant smiles on their faces. With the threat of a jail sentence hanging over him, and after making them promise to protect his identity when they caught the hitman, Van Keil had sung like a bird.

"Do you think he realises that we're going to drag him right back in here later and charge him for conspiracy to commit murder the second we find some evidence?" asked Lisbon.

"I think he's too busy congratulating himself on his lucky escape for now," said Beckett, as the door to the viewing room opened and Jane and Castle came out. She glanced at a piece of paper in her hand. "Warren Hunstrom," she read. "That's not the name of the man we know as 3XK."

"Could be an alias," Lisbon suggested. "And at least it's a place to start."

Jane grinned at them both when he reached them.

"Nicely done, ladies," he said. "Isn't there just something so satisfying about giving people the rope they'll use to hang themselves without them even knowing it?"

Lisbon rolled her eyes at her consultant as he fell into step beside her, and the two of them soon got ahead of Beckett and Castle who walked together in an uncomfortable silence.

There seemed to be so much she wanted to say, but she had trouble finding the words. She hated the way they'd left things last night, and hated the way it had carried over into today. Apparently, this was not one of those things that would go away on its own if she ignored it for long enough, but something that sooner or later, she would have to face up to.

She supposed she should have known it would come to this. Castle had bared his heart and soul to her last night, and at the very least, she owed him the dignity of a proper response.

Up ahead, she heard Jane murmur something to Lisbon, who chuckled, and then playfully swatted him on the arm. She'd give anything to have that easiness with Castle again, like it had used to be.

If things weren't so weird between them, she might have been able to tell him that Josh had broken up with her last night. He'd called about half an hour after they'd arrived back from dinner to tell her he thought it was time that they called it a day. She'd agreed. He'd then said he knew he was making the right decision for she'd never really cared for him at all if she could take the news so easily. That had been unfair. She certainly had cared for him, once. Indeed, he had played a very important role in helping to fill the void left by Castle's departure last summer. She would always be grateful to him for helping her through that time.

But then Castle had returned, and though she'd kept seeing Josh, she'd slowly begun not to need him so much anymore, particularly when Castle's ex-wife Gina had been out of the picture. With her best friend back, and all to herself again, her relationship with Josh had eventually become superfluous. They both knew it, and she suspected they'd only stayed together this long because it would have been inconvenient to break up.

But now they had. Under normal circumstances, she'd have told Castle right away, but now, she feared what he would make of the news. She wasn't used to having to be so guarded with him, but she didn't want him reading more into it than there was. Perhaps there was a correlation between her conversation with Castle and the break-up, and perhaps there wasn't. But she didn't want to be asked that question until she had an answer ready.

In the end though, whatever happened, she knew that she and Castle were going to be OK. They always were. And he'd promised.

With a name and a contact number for their hitman, finally they could put a plan in place to track him down. Grouped around the whiteboard again, the two teams devoted an hour to planning their fake hit. After some discussion, it was decided that Van Pelt would be the target. Cho and Esposito were to stick to her like glue to protect her until Hunstrom made his move. During this time, they would remain in radio contact with the rest of the team, who would be ready to spring into action to help take him down.

Beckett had deliberately arranged to keep herself back from the main action, in the hope that Castle would follow suit without too much complaint. She knew both he and Ryan felt that they had a score to settle with Jerry Tyson, and she didn't want to risk anyone getting ahead of themselves and possibly being injured.

The other major problem was the issue of the $80,000 fee Hunstrom required to engage his services. Of course, Castle offered his assistance right away, but she felt guilty about taking it. She didn't want him to have to drop a ridiculous amount of money on another scheme that might turn out to be fruitless, but Jane told her not to worry about it, and that he could come up with the money. She looked curiously at Lisbon, who shook her head and told her not to bother asking.

Jane then disappeared for a couple of hours, and when he returned clutching two briefcases, cheerfully told them that he'd just been banned from his 15th casino. The NYPD detectives watched on, flabbergasted, as he opened the briefcases, extracted handfuls of cash and began ostentatiously to count them out, only desisting when Lisbon barked at him to quit showing off. He snapped the cases shut, and slid one across the table to Beckett.

"That ought to cover it," he said. "Or would you prefer me to write you a cheque?"

"This'll do fine," she said. Her eye strayed across to the remaining briefcase at Jane's elbow. "What's in there?" she asked before she could stop herself.

Jane spared the case a brief, careless glance. "There's a bit of money left over."

"How much?" asked Castle.

"Oh, about fifty grand, give or take," said Jane casually. Ignoring the startled looks on everyone's faces he began to look longingly towards his couch for a power nap after a hard morning of swindling.

"What are you going to do with it?" asked Esposito, eyes fixed on the briefcase.

Jane shrugged. "I'll think of something."

"Why do you work at all?" asked Ryan, in wonderment. "With your skills you could make enough money in a few hours for you to live on for a year."

Jane picked up the briefcase and carried it with him over to the couch. He set it down, and collapsed onto the couch, yawning widely.

"Well, you know what they say about idle hands," he said sleepily, closed his eyes, and didn't speak anymore. In spite of themselves, most of the team's eyes were drawn to the cash-loaded briefcase at his side, all except, Beckett suddenly noticed, for Lisbon, whose gaze was trained on her consultant.

Lisbon hadn't seemed the slightest bit surprised or impressed when Jane had arrived with his spoils. On the contrary, she'd barely reacted at all, except for when she'd told him off for his showboating. Now she was watching Jane, frowning slightly, and Beckett also thought she looked a little sad. But after a moment, she seemed to shake herself out of it, and cleared her throat loudly, bringing everyone else's attention back to work.

Jane snoozed on in the corner as the others proceeded to make arrangements for the afternoon, when they would make the payment to Hunstrom and put the plan in motion. Beckett noticed that Lisbon glanced over at the couch every now and then, almost as though to reassure herself that her partner was still there.

In turn, she herself could feel Castle's gaze on her, but determinedly didn't look at him. Today would be stressful enough without further complications. Over her dead body was this going to turn out like the Rathborne debacle. This time, nobody was going to die.

* * *

><p>As the sun began to set over Sacramento, Lisbon could be found in the SUV, parked in the shadow of a tall building, with Jane at her side. Across the street, Van Pelt was framed in the window of a small café, sipping from a cup beside her.<p>

"You OK there, Grace?" Lisbon said into the radio.

Van Pelt put the cup down. "This coffee's good," she said, in a low voice. "Boss, you really should come and try it."

"Maybe another day, when we're not in the middle of a covert operation," said Lisbon.

"Fair enough," mumbled Van Pelt, for at the moment a man had passed by her table. She shot him a winning smile. Lisbon chuckled as the man tripped over a chair leg in his haste to grin back.

"Sometimes I think that there's nothing more dangerous in this world than a beautiful woman," Jane said, as they watched Van Pelt's would-be suitor pull himself up from the floor and dash out of the café in embarrassment.

"I hate this part," said Lisbon, glancing at the clock on the dashboard. "Waiting around for something to happen is so irritating."

"Try and have patience," said Jane, leaning back comfortably in his seat and closing his eyes. "I understand it's very difficult for you."

"Shut up," she said, automatically. A crackling sound issued from the radio.

"Com check," came Beckett's voice, distorted by the static. "Everyone in position?"

Lisbon answered in the affirmative, and after a moment, Cho did as well. He and Esposito were also in the café, a few tables away from Van Pelt, lying low until Hunstrom showed up. The cash transaction had been made by wire transfer, and eventually Ryan had been the one to phone up the number provided by Van Keil. He'd been given an email address to which he'd sent a photograph of Van Pelt.

In the interest of covering all bases, Lisbon had asked Van Pelt to try to trace the email address, but the address had dead-ended somewhere in cyberspace leaving them with no hope of finding out who it belonged to. It had been worth a try, but now there was nothing to do but wait.

After sleeping through the initial stages, Jane had been surprisingly willing to take part in the execution of the plan. After relocating the second briefcase to the attic, he'd then offered to join Lisbon in the SUV rather then go with Beckett, Ryan, Rigsby and Castle in the van. He said it was because the van was tight on space, but she also hoped it was his way of trying to be a better partner by being there for her. Either way, she was glad for the company.

"Will you relax?" he said to her now. She hadn't realised she'd been drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. "Cho and Esposito will look after her," he went on. "She'll be fine."

Lisbon didn't think she'd ever be completely OK with putting her team at risk like this. While Van Pelt had been more than happy to accept the job, Lisbon still felt guilty. If she'd had her way, she would happily put herself into every dangerous situation they encountered, in order to spare the others, and to spare herself the sense of responsibility if something went wrong.

She had volunteered to be the target in Van Pelt's stead, but both Beckett and Jane had shouted her down, Beckett saying they'd need her for backup if things got ugly, and Jane pointing out that she'd already stared down the barrel of a gun enough times in this case, and it was time for someone else to take a turn.

If she hadn't known better, she'd have thought he'd actually been concerned.

Across the street, a waiter appeared in the window, bringing a sandwich to Van Pelt. Lisbon looked at it jealously. She hadn't eaten all day; there hadn't been time what with everything else going on. Her stomach chose that moment to growl in protest, and Jane glanced over at her with a smile.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

"Of course you are," Jane agreed, with a trace of sarcasm in his voice. "Food is only necessary for the weak, average human, not the great Teresa Lisbon after all." He opened the glove compartment, and with much crinkling of paper, took a paper bag out of it and waved it in front of her. "So I don't suppose you'll be wanting this bear claw then?" he asked.

"Where did you get that?" she demanded.

"Oh, I picked it up on the way back from the casino," he said. "But seeing as you don't want it-" he broke off, smirking, as she reached over and snatched it from him. "That's what I thought. I couldn't give it to you earlier because if the others knew I'd bought you a bear claw, they'd all have wanted one."

"So why didn't you bring some for everybody?" she asked as she unfolded the bag and took a large bite.

"The rest of them all found time today to feed themselves. But I knew you'd need a little more encouragement to take a break. You would have kept on going until you dropped."

She didn't bother denying it, and in fact, said nothing at all until she'd polished off the bear claw, crumpled up the empty bag and put it back in the glove compartment to be thrown away later.

"Thanks," she said. "I needed that."

"I know. You're welcome."

Another glance at Van Pelt, who was now daintily nibbling on her sandwich, and flicking through the newspaper. They were all fairly sure that Hunstrom wouldn't make his move until she left the café, but Cho and Esposito were on high alert, just in case. Lisbon tried not to think about snipers. Any decent marksman would have a clean shot through the window. Though their hitman seemed to favour hand-to-hand confrontation, she had insisted that Van Pelt wear a Kevlar vest as well. It could mean the difference between injury and death.

Beside her, Jane blew out a sigh.

"I'm bored," he complained. "Can't we have some music on or something?"

"No, the others could need us at any time. If we have music on we won't be able to hear properly."

"Spoilsport," he muttered.

Another brief silence followed, and then she asked him something that had been plaguing her all afternoon.

"What _are_ you going to do with all that money?" she asked.

He chuckled. "I knew you were more curious than you were letting on," he said, and then shrugged. "If I can't find something useful to do with it, I'll ditch it. I don't need it, and I don't want it."

"You could buy yourself some more suits," she suggested. "Or at the very least, a new pair of shoes. Those ones have certainly seen better days." She glanced down at the scuffed brown shoes that he'd been wearing practically every day, as long as she'd known him.

"What are you, the fashion police?" he asked. "I've got enough clothes to get me through. I don't need any more."

"It wouldn't make you a bad person if you kept it," she said. "You won it, fair and square."

Jane shook his head vigorously. "I don't need it," he repeated. "It's only a small step between entitlement and greed, and greed was what got me here in the first place, if you'll remember. Won't be making that mistake again."

Lisbon sighed. "When are you going to stop punishing yourself?"

"You know when," he said darkly.

She didn't believe him; in fact she wasn't even sure Jane believed himself. She knew full well that he would never stop punishing himself. He seemed to think that the destruction of Red John would be the end of everything. He saw nothing beyond it, nothing else to aspire to. What would happen when Red John really was gone? Who was to say that he wouldn't give up completely, and simply let himself sink into apathy, or worse, take his own life? All the pain and heartache she'd endured over the years on his behalf would have been for nothing.

She imagined that when he looked in the mirror, he saw nothing but a monster, who deserved nothing better than to live out his days in misery and despair, paying endless penance for his sins. But she still had hope that one day he would be able to forgive himself. After all, she hadn't sacrificed so much over the years for him to simply throw it all away. She'd spent their entire partnership defending him, supporting him, protecting him, damn it. He owed it to her not to give up.

"You're too hard on yourself," she said.

"It took my family being murdered to make me realise what an arrogant ass I was," he said. "I was so stupid, so ignorant. So blind." He gave a humourless smile. "I was supposed to be the all-seeing, all-knowing man, and somehow I managed not to notice the creature I became."

"Seems to me you're still missing something," she said. "Because I know there's a good man under all your playacting and smart-ass mentalist crap. And if I, the layperson, can see it, why the hell can't you?"

"Who knows? Maybe I need glasses." He said this with an attempt at his usual easiness and bravado. She knew what he was doing; he'd obviously had enough of this conversation and was trying to change the subject. She let him, for now wasn't the time or place for an in-depth character assessment.

"I think I'd look good in glasses," he said, with a proud tilt of his head. She privately agreed. But then again, with a confident air like his, he could probably get away with anything. He could turn up to work in a clown suit if he wanted to, and still be the sexiest thing in California, if not the world.

"Of course you'd think that," she retorted, nothing if not consistent. "You already think you're God's gift to women." It was her job to cut him down to size when he got too full of himself, it was expected of her. And it wouldn't do to stray from the script. Things could get weird.

Jane naturally ignored this jibe, and merely smirked.

Cho's voice cut through the static on the radio again. "We're on the move," he said. Sure enough, when Lisbon looked up it was to see Van Pelt exiting the café. Around thirty seconds later Cho and Esposito also emerged, and sloped after her.

"Heading southwest," Cho continued. "Beckett, we're coming your way."

"Got that," Beckett answered. "Lisbon, Jane hold your position for now."

Lisbon made a face at the radio. "Who died and made you queen?" she muttered under her breath. Beside her, Jane laughed quietly.

She gave an irritated sigh. "I shouldn't have said that," she said. "It was unprofessional."

"I won't tell anyone. But between you and me, I love it when you get all bitter and resentful, particularly at someone who isn't me. Makes a nice change. And it's good to see you take a break from the white knight routine every now and then."

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Loving big sister and pseudo-parent, defender of the weak and innocent, punisher of the guilty, a martyr to the cause of saving something that can't be saved," he gestured to himself. "Loyal to a fault and willing to protect those you care about with your last breath."

It all sounded so noble when he said it like that. But she knew she didn't deserve such a glowing account, for she only did those things because she felt she had to. She told him so.

He shook his head in disbelief.

"You honestly don't get it, do you?" he said. "You really don't see."

"See what?" she asked, impatiently, resigning herself to another lecture about his heightened powers of observation, finely-tuned skills, and sense of his own all-around greatness. That was why she needed him around; he could see the things that she couldn't, and blah, blah, blah. She could hear it all already.

He gazed at her with kind eyes. "You're perfect," he said. "Or as near enough to it as any person could be. And that's the truth."

Lisbon choked on nothing but air, and felt herself redden. She looked anywhere but at him as she tried to get herself back under control. It was the biggest compliment he'd ever paid her, in fact, the biggest compliment anyone could give anyone. What had made him say such a thing? She was far, far from perfect. She was a wreck.

"Stop it," she managed to choke out. "You're being an idiot."

"I'm not," he retorted. "You are-"

But whatever else she was, she never found out for at that moment, the radio burst to life once more.

"Cho, there's someone on your 6 o' clock," said Beckett.

"I know," Cho answered, so low she had to strain to hear him. "He's been following us for a few blocks."

"That's not him," said Jane suddenly. "Any hitman worth his salt wouldn't go wandering around in the open allowing people to get a good look at him. If it were me, I'd have got myself into a good hiding spot hours ago."

After a moment, Cho came through on the frequency again. "False alarm," he said. "He went into an apartment block."

Lisbon rolled her eyes at Jane. "Don't you ever get tired of being right?"

"You'd think so," he beamed. "But no, I really don't."

* * *

><p>Cho and Esposito walked slowly along the street, keeping Van Pelt's bright red hair in their sights.<p>

"At this rate, we'll be walking to tomorrow," Esposito complained. "How do we know that's it going to be tonight?"

"Jane said so," said Cho simply.

Esposito shrugged, but raised no further objections. Cho glanced around the area surrounding them; not a person in sight, a lone car trundling down the road. All was quiet, and the sun was so low in the sky now that everything was bathed in a reddish glow.

Up ahead, Van Pelt turned a corner, and was screened from view by the side of a building. A moment later, a strange sound, like a strangled gasp, which suddenly cut off, and then a clatter. Cho and Esposito exchanged looks, and tore around the corner themselves.

Esposito exclaimed in surprise, and Cho stopped dead in his tracks.

Van Pelt's earpiece was on the ground. She was gone.

* * *

><p>In the van, just down the road Beckett, Castle, Ryan and Rigsby sat in silence waiting for more updates. Castle found he wasn't enjoying this stakeout as much as others previously. He and Beckett had shared a great number of quality bonding moments on stakeouts together in the past. Just the two of them, in a darkened car; several of his Beckett fantasies had begun that way.<p>

He glanced sideways at her. She hadn't met his eyes all day, and only spoken to him when absolutely necessary. Perhaps it was a good thing they hadn't been on their own this time, he didn't think he could have handled this uncomfortable silence if the others weren't with them.

Rigsby produced a candy bar. He broke it in two and offered half to Ryan, who took it and began eating it, but not looking as though he was enjoying it very much. Castle thought he knew what was on his mind. They could be mere minutes away from a reunion with Jerry Tyson. The last time the three of them had met, they had definitely come off second best. Ryan had lost both his badge and his gun, and they all knew he hated himself for that. More than once since, Ryan had been known to go quiet for no apparent reason, and Castle suspected he was wondering what Tyson was doing with them, what other havoc he could be wreaking with the added credibility the badge would bring.

"Oh hell," they heard Esposito say, and silence fell.

Beckett grabbed for the receiver. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"We lost her," said Cho.

Three things happened at once. Rigsby went ghostly white and dropped the candy bar, Beckett gasped and a shriek issued from the radio. "You _what_?" Lisbon exploded from the SUV. "You were five steps behind her, how the hell did you lose her?"

"He must have dragged her into this building," said Esposito. "Looks like a warehouse or something."

"Probably wanted to get her off the street, so nobody would hear the struggle," said Cho.

"Well, get in there after her," Lisbon ordered him. "But be careful, we'll be there soon."

"No, hang back Lisbon," said Beckett, using her free hand to start the van. "Just in case he runs out a back way."

"Like hell I will," Lisbon snarled. Castle had never heard such venom in her voice before. "My agent is in danger." The radio went dead.

Within moments, Beckett pulled the van up next to place where they'd lost contact with Van Pelt. The SUV was already parked halfway up the gutter. She, Ryan and Rigsby piled out of the car.

"Castle, stay in the car," she said, as she slammed the door.

Left behind again, Castle looked through the window of the SUV to see Jane in the passenger seat; apparently he had been relegated to a spectator as well.

A few minutes of tense waiting passed. Castle hated not knowing what was going on. He only wished he'd thought to bring his 'Writer' vest along, so he could take part, rather than sit around here like this.

Suddenly, the door to the building opened, and a tall man, dressed all in black came hurtling out of it. Hunstrom took off down the sidewalk, as Beckett and Lisbon streaked after him. Lisbon got slightly ahead of Beckett, took a flying leap, and tackled Hunstrom to the ground. His yelp of surprise must have been audible the next street over, and one of his flailing legs caught Lisbon in the chest. She let out a grunt of pain but didn't release him. Within seconds Beckett caught up to them, and pointed her gun threateningly at Hunstrom's head.

Beckett hauled Hunstrom to his feet as Lisbon got gingerly onto hers, wincing with the movement. Jane leapt out of the SUV and walked towards his partner with a look of great concern while Beckett deposited the now-handcuffed Hunstrom into the back seat.

With the action over, Castle declared his vehicular incarceration at an end and got out too. To his relief, this time Beckett seemed to have got through it unscathed.

"Van Pelt's OK," she reported. "We got to her just in time."

The door opened yet again, and this time Van Pelt emerged, supported by Ryan and Esposito with Rigsby trailing along behind anxiously. Cho brought up the rear.

"You're being ridiculous, you can't drive in that state."

A few yards away, Jane's exasperated voice scolded Lisbon. He appeared to have taken the SUV keys away from her and was brandishing them at her in annoyance.

"I'm fine," she said. But she winced again and Castle suspected bruised ribs at the very least.

"Prove it," he said. "You want them, take them back." He held them out to her. Stubbornly, she reached for them but cried out and doubled over instead, clutching Jane's arm for support.

"That's what I thought," he snapped, but Castle noticed his gaze was far gentler, as she heavily sucked in air beside him. "Cho's driving," he informed her firmly. "And that's final. I suppose it's pointless to suggest you go to the hospital?" he asked, and she nodded. "Fine, come on then, let's get out of here." She allowed him to slip an arm around her waist and the two of them lurched towards the car. Castle heard her call Jane an asshole as they did so.

As he turned back around to Beckett, his eye fell on Hunstrom in the back seat. To his bemusement, Hunstrom lit up with a brilliant smile.

"Most people wouldn't be quite so happy to be in the back of a police car," said Castle, coldly.

"Well, most people wouldn't just have been arrested by a personal hero," said Hunstrom. "Richard Castle. Jerry told me I might run into you."

* * *

><p><strong>I was hoping to get this done by Xmas but I guess it will have to be a New Year's gift to you, my lovely readers. I hope you liked it!<strong>


	12. Revelations

**As is becoming the norm with this story, I'd like to begin by apologising for the long delay between updates. My only excuse is that real life has been getting in the way. I have a new job, and have been planning an overseas trip. So I've been a little busy. But I realise that's no excuse.**

**Once again, I own nothing recognizable. Rating is still T.**

* * *

><p>Jane ignored Lisbon's constant muttering as he guided her to the car. No doubt she was abusing him with the most colourful words she could think of, but he'd heard them all before. He felt it would be a far more productive use of his time to pay close attention to the sidewalk in order to avoid any holes or hazards that might injure her further.<p>

"Watch your step here," he said, as they approached a spot where the concrete had been set unevenly, creating a slight protuberance.

She wasn't listening, still grumbling about him taking the car keys away from her. "-perfectly capable of driving, I'm not a child."

She was heading straight for it, and he knew if she tripped over it she could really hurt herself. He tried to gently guide her away from it, but she stubbornly refused to alter their course.

"What, now you don't even think I can walk by myself?" she complained. "Well thank you, Jane, but that happens to be a skill I actually have mastered, despite my incompetence."

"Watch where you're going," he warned her again, but still she ignored him.

"Sure, because I just go around with my eyes shut, and banging off the walls-"

"Lisbon-"

"Of course, I shouldn't feel singled out, everyone's a moron compared to Patrick Jane-"

"Lisbon!"

He tightened his hold around her waist to stop her pitching forward as she stumbled on the little crest of concrete. He felt her muscles contract with pain, and heard her breathing hitch, but at least she hadn't fallen down.

"Are you OK?" he asked, as she steadied herself.

"Yeah," she said, and after a slight pause, added, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he said. "But you're injured, and you need to let me help you right now, just this once, OK? Nobody's looking, and I promise I won't tell anybody."

She glared at him. "You do, and I'll deny it to the bitter end."

He smiled. "I would expect nothing else."

She chuckled, and started to shuffle forwards once more. He maintained his tight grip on her, and she didn't protest, possibly because she was clenching her jaw so as not to let out another gasp of pain. He opened the back door of the SUV.

"Uh-uh," she said flatly. "I'm the boss, if I can't drive, I at least ride up front."

"Lisbon, you obviously don't realize that this is one of those admittedly rare situations where in terms of physical strength, I have the upper hand."

"Please," she scoffed. "I could have you on your back in a second if I wanted to." He smirked, and she went scarlet as she realized too late the double meaning of her own words.

"Maybe later," he said, and then added in a lower voice, "You can have me any way you want my dear, just ask."

"Shut up!" she snapped.

Most unwillingly, he let the subject drop. "If you sit between Grace and I, you won't get jolted around as much. Might be easier on your ribs till we can get back to the office and you can take something."

"I don't need anything, I'm OK," she said.

"Rubbish," he countered. "You might be putting on a brave face right now, but you're in excruciating pain. I see right through you."

And so he could. Never had he known anyone as tough as Teresa Lisbon, but one day, that toughness might lead to her downfall. There could come a time when she would eventually push herself too far, so it was his job to slow her up, and keep her from overexerting herself to make sure that never happened. Contrary to what she might think, Lisbon was not made of steel and sometimes she just needed to stop and give herself a moment to recuperate. Since she seemed incapable of doing that on her own, that was where he came in.

She certainly did enough for him, so he was glad to be able to repay the favour in some small part.

Rolling her eyes at him, she slid into the back seat. He looked up to see Castle, Beckett and the others standing by the van. Castle seemed to be in conversation with Hunstrom in the back, though judging by his face, the conversation was not at all to the writer's taste.

"Meet you back at the CBI," Jane called out to them, and Beckett nodded. He then stepped into the car beside Lisbon, while Van Pelt clambered in on her other side.

"You OK, boss?" asked Rigsby from the front as Cho began to drive away from the kerb.

"I'm fine," she said. "Grace?" For the redhead hadn't said much since she'd emerged from the building with Ryan and Esposito's help. She didn't seem to be injured, but the close call was appearing to take its toll on her. Jane could relate. He'd had plenty of those moments when his life seemed to flash before his eyes, and death seemed all but assured, until somebody (Lisbon, usually,) arrived to save the day.

"I'm OK," said Van Pelt. "Thanks, boss."

A black sedan came flying out of a side street, causing Cho to slam the brakes on in order to avoid a collision. All five of them were launched violently forward, and then back. Lisbon let out a tiny whimper of pain, and without thinking, Jane reached over to comfort her, laying his hand gently on the side of her leg.

She looked down at it, and then at him, with raised eyebrows.

"Sorry," he said, withdrawing it quickly.

"It's OK," she said, quietly, looking around. Van Pelt was gazing out the window, and Cho and Rigsby were both cursing the black sedan driver. None of them had seemingly noticed a thing. He smiled at her apologetically. "I didn't mean it, I swear."

"No really," she went on. "It's OK."

If he didn't know better, he might think she actually wanted him to leave his hand there. But no, surely not. He must be misreading something. But as he eyed her questioningly, there was no teasing twinkle in her eye, nor the murderous looking glint which seemed to mean 'keep your hands off me or else."

Did he dare risk it? Even injured, she could still break his arm if she wanted to. But Patrick Jane thrived on danger. He decided he dared.

When his hand came to rest on her leg again, he braced himself for the slap across the face he was sure was coming. But it never came. She didn't yell at him or swear, or snap. Instead, she caught his eye and shot him a tiny smile.

God, she must be in pain, if she was resorting to him as a distraction.

They spent the rest of the journey back to HQ in silence.

* * *

><p>Silence also reigned in the van as the NYPD team rolled through the Sacramento streets.<p>

Beckett was driving, Castle in the passenger seat as always, with Ryan and Esposito in the back, on either side of Hunstrom, who still seemed to be inexplicably enjoying himself, grinning creepily into the rearview mirror.

Castle tried his best not to meet his gaze, for every time he did, a feeling of unease washed over him. This guy knew Jerry Tyson, had spoken with him, they had planned these murders together. But why? They had always known Tyson to be a solo operator, it wasn't like him to take on an accomplice. Castle had the distinct feeling they were missing something here, like the key to cracking this case was dangling right in front of their noses, if only they could see it.

Castle frowned as he turned the day's events over in his mind. Hunstrom had expected to be caught, and what was more, he had expected to be caught specifically by them. Did that mean something? Was this just some new way of 3XK's to mess with them?

He thought about the case, the crime scene photos, the briefings they'd all had together. Nothing seemed to fit. Hunstrom and Tyson were both professional killers, but had left evidence on the bodies that lead straight to them. It didn't make sense.

Was it carelessness, or something more sinister?

From the back, Hunstrom sighed. "You know, I'd have expected a best-selling author to have a little more personality," he said. "Are all car rides with you this much fun?"

"Sorry, but entertainment for murderers isn't that high on our list of priorities," said Castle.

"Murderer?" repeated Hunstrom. "That's a little harsh. I'm just another guy trying to make a living in the world."

There was a collective snort from everybody else. "Did you ever try the 'help wanted' ads?" asked Ryan, sardonically.

"Funnily enough, there aren't that many jobs going for people with my particular skill set, Detective Ryan." He smirked. "Jerry's told me all about you as well. Oh, and he also wanted me to pass on his thanks for your gun and badge. Apparently, they've proved quite useful."

Ryan clenched his fists.

"Take it easy, bro," said Esposito, sensing danger.

"I'd listen to your partner if I were you," Hunstrom advised Ryan. "I will have no hesitation in filiing assault charges should anyone's temper get out of hand."

Ryan said nothing, and looked pointedly out of the window.

"I'll remind you of your right to remain silent, Mr Hunstrom," said Beckett, without taking her eyes off the road. " Perhaps you should save the chit-chat for when we get back to the station."

"I agree," he said. "Wouldn't want to get on your bad side Detective. The stories are legendary. I hear you can be quite the wild lynx when provoked. Assuming of course that Mr Castle doesn't decide to fight your battles for you. Does it make you feel better, having a big strong man to protect you?"

Castle saw Beckett's mouth tighten, but otherwise she ignored Hunstrom's taunts.

"I'm sure you're quite good at your job," he went on, unconvincingly, "but there are some things that women just shouldn't do. Especially pretty ones like yourself. Nobody wants a masculine sort of woman, Detective. It's probably why you aren't married."

They stopped at a red light. Castle glanced over at Beckett, whose hands were clamped tight on the steering wheel.

"You OK?" he mouthed, and she nodded, rolling her eyes towards Hunstrom. Castle mimed shooting himself in the head, which made her smile.

"Of course, I understand you had your personal reasons for becoming a police officer," Hunstrom continued. "Death of your mother wasn't it? And all this time later and you still haven't found the killer. It must be so frustrating for you."

"Almost there now," she said shortly. "We're two minutes away."

"Oh good," said Hunstrom. "Maybe things will liven up a bit. The other cop, the little dark-haired thing-"

"That's Agent Lisbon to you," interrupted Castle.

"Yes her, is she going to be there too? Because I could very much enjoy being locked in a room with two lady cops and their handcuffs."

"If you don't shut up, you're not going to make it to the CBI," said Esposito.

"Threats is it?" said Hunstrom. "How interesting. I wonder what Internal Affairs would think if I made a complaint about that." But he said no more, as they pulled into the CBI parking lot and Ryan and Esposito escorted him roughly out of the car.

"Are you OK?" asked Castle again, as Ryan and Esposito marched Hunstrom into the building.

"I'm fine," she said.

She wasn't fine, he could see that. The taunts about her mother had shaken her, but she wouldn't be Beckett if she actually let him in for once and told him what she was thinking.

"You better not have believed a word of what that jackass said to you in the car just now," he said.

She scoffed. "Like I give a damn what he thinks."

"Good. You shouldn't."

She smiled at him, and then inclined her head towards the building. "Shall we?"

He stepped aside to let her pass. "Ladies first."

She rolled her eyes, but held her head high, and sauntered past him through the door. He followed her progress, unable to take his eyes off her. He was so hopelessly, helplessly, pathetically in love with her that the simple act of her walking made his heart skip a beat.

Perhaps it would have been easier if he'd never met her, if he'd just gone on being Richard Castle, womanizer. At least back then, he'd been the one in control. He'd hadn't woken up in the morning with a constant ache in his chest, hadn't felt the need to run around like a little boy, catering to her every whim to try and impress her, and most importantly, there'd always been a way out.

Not so with her. It didn't matter what she did. She could leave him in this horrible, gut-wrenching limbo for as long as she liked. She could rip his heart right out of him and play hacky sack with it if she wanted and it wouldn't stop him loving her. Now he was in, he was in 100%, always and forever. It was kind of frightening, the power she had over him.

He had lied for this woman. He would kill for her; he would die for her.

"You coming Castle?" she tossed over her shoulder from down the hall, and he realised he'd been stationary for almost a full minute, just watching her. He scooted after her, eventually beating her to the elevator and pressing the button so the doors slid open just as she reached them. She chuckled as she walked inside.

"Hasn't anyone told you? Chivalry is dead," she said.

"Not on my watch it isn't."

* * *

><p>Back in her office, Lisbon riffled through her desk drawers in search of something she could take that might stop the throbbing in her ribs, or at least dull it enough so she could get through the Hunstrom interview. Her chest hurt like hell, but she absolutely refused to go to a doctor. She knew from experience that there was very little that could be done for such an injury, so there was no point wasting all that time. Easier just to shut up and get on with things.<p>

She shoved aside pens, crumpled up paper, broken pencils, paperclips, a stapler, a hole punch, several incomplete responses to complaints about Jane, a muesli bar, a pair of scissors and Jane's origami rose before she finally found what she was looking for; aspirin. Opening the bottle, she poured two pills onto her palm, and made a face. She'd never liked having to dry-swallow medication but if she went to get something to take them with, everyone would know, and she was too proud to let that happen.

Just then, a hand appeared in front of her holding a glass of water. A hand with a gold wedding band on it. Jane. Who else? She accepted the glass, swallowed the two pills and gulped down half the water as well.

"Better?" Jane asked, as she lifted her head to look at him at last.

"Quit being so nice and concerned, and helpful," she told him. "It's creeping me out."

He smiled. "Now Lisbon, it would be unsporting to toy with you when you're not at your full strength."

"Oh so suddenly you're all about fair play?" she asked sarcastically. "Sure."

"I really think you should go to a doctor," he said.

"All they'll tell me is to take painkillers, which I have just done, and to rest, which is kind of not an option at the moment," she said, stubbornly. "As soon as this aspirin kicks in I'll be fine."

He sighed. "It'll take fifteen minutes or so for the others to get Hunstrom through booking and bring him up here, will you at least sit down until then?"

She shook her head. "I want to go check on Grace."

"She's all right, Rigsby's looking out for her," said Jane. "And Cho's getting the room ready for interrogation. They're all fine. Now please." He gestured towards the couch.

She glared at Jane. Interfering jerk, thinking he could tell her what to do. But this whole concerned thing made a pleasant change, and she was in considerable pain.

"I'll sit for two minutes," she said.

"Ten," he countered.

"Five."

"Eight."

"Seven and a half."

He smirked. "Done. Go on."

Reluctantly, she shuffled over to the couch and sat down. This one Jane had picked out for her really was more comfortable than her last couch. This didn't improve her mood. Nor did the fact that Jane dropped onto it beside her a moment later.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked.

"Making sure you stay put," he said. "I know you, Lisbon if I leave you alone you'll sneak off as soon as I leave the room. So we are going to sit here for seven minutes and thirty seconds, starting now."

Lisbon glared at her consultant.

"Do you realise that I could be using this time to do something constructive?" she asked. "Unlike you, the CBI doesn't pay me to have unlimited leisure time, especially when I'm on a case."

What if Beckett came up here and saw her just lazing around like this? Just when they'd finally started to get to a place of actual understanding of each other, they'd be back at square one. And while she and the detective had not instantly hit it off in a personal way, professionally she had nothing but respect for Kate Beckett, and hoped the same respect was extended to her too.

"She's not going to judge you," said Jane, as though he were pulling the thoughts out of her head. "She'll understand."

"And how do you know what she'll think?" she snapped.

"Because I know you," he said simply. "And I've told you before, you and Beckett are so alike it isn't even funny."

She chose not to answer, and instead glanced at the clock on her desk. Well, that couldn't be right. They couldn't have been sitting here for less than a minute, it felt like at least three.

"I want coffee," she said. If she was going to be kept prisoner on this couch for another six minutes and fifty seconds, she might as well get something out of it.

He smiled. "I thought you might say that. Rigsby!" he called out. Immediately, Rigsby appeared at the door, with a steaming cup in his hand.

"Here you go, boss," he said, holding it out to her. "White with one, right?"

"Right," said Lisbon bewilderedly, automatically reaching for it. "Thanks, Rigsby. But how did you-?"

He grinned. "Jane said you'd be wanting one." He left.

Well that was a relief. Lisbon had her hands quite full enough with one pseudo-psychic, without Rigsby suddenly developing a sixth sense too.

"I wouldn't worry about Rigsby starting to read minds," said Jane, once again as if she'd spoken her thoughts aloud. "He's a fine detective but he wouldn't make much of a manipulator. Too noble and righteous."

"Will you stop that?" she asked, irritably. "You've already barged your way into my office, I don't need you inside my head too."

"I don't need to get inside your head; all I have to do is see the look on your face," he said. "And as I've also told you before, you are an open book, my dear."

"Well if it's so damn obvious, how come nobody else sees it?" Certainly no-one else in her life felt the need to probe through her mind and her emotions the way Jane did.

He chuckled. "I can assure you, Lisbon, they all see it. It's just nobody else is brave enough to call you on it like I do."

"Or more likely, they have enough respect to know when to stay out of other people's business."

"What you call 'lack of respect', I call 'innocent curiosity'," he said. "Kind of in the same way that what you call 'stealing' I call 'purloining.' And what I call 'removing an obstacle' you call-"

"Breaking and entering."

"Exactly," he said, happily. "It's all about how you look at it."

To keep herself from retorting, she took another gulp of coffee and looked at the clock again. Four minutes had now passed. Outside the office, she saw Castle and Beckett emerge from the elevator and make their way towards them. Feeling like a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, she hastily tried to rise, but Jane laid a firm but gentle hand on her arm to keep her there.

"Oh no you don't," he said. "You still owe me three and a half minutes."

"No, I've played your little game long enough," she said. "I sat, I drank coffee, I humoured you, now enough's enough."

"We had a deal," he reminded her.

"As if any deal with you counts for anything. There are no deals with conmen."

"Conmen?" he repeated. "I'm not a conman, I'm a consultant."

"No what you are, is a constant pain in my ass!" she said, angrily. "Now if you don't take your hand off me this instant, I am going to cause you pain that you can't even begin to imagine!"

"You are free to have your way with me in any manner you so choose," said Jane calmly. "In three minutes. And if you don't calm down, I'm going to make it four."

"Fine," she said. "Then I'll also break four of your bones if you don't let me get up from this couch."

"I'm willing to take that risk."

"Oh, you son of a-!" Losing control of her temper, she reached up and slapped his hand away, resulting in two grunts of pain, one from each of them, as she massaged her chest and he rubbed his hand, on which an angry red mark was already beginning to form.

"I hate you," she told him, emphatically. "I'm not kidding, sometimes I wish you would get hit by a truck, or a bus, or a freaking meteorite, just so I wouldn't have to deal with you anymore."

"You don't mean that," he said, with half a smile.

He was right of course, but she was too frustrated and angry to leave it at that. "Well maybe if I'm lucky, _I'll_ get hit by a truck or shot, or something and at least get to spend a few months in a nice, peaceful coma." She didn't mean a word of it, obviously, but it felt good to vent.

Jane's half-smile disappeared, and he seized her hand, eyes suddenly blazing with anger, and something else…was that fear?

"Don't ever say anything like that again," he said. "It's not funny, and quite frankly, it's something I don't ever want to think about."

He squeezed her hand, hard. She was taken aback by the sincerity in his eyes; he was really serious about this.

"I can't handle losing anything else, Lisbon," he said. "This place and the team are all I've got now. I can't lose that. I can't lose-" He was cut off by a sharp knock on the door.

"Lisbon?" came Beckett's voice. "Can we come in?"

"Just a second!" She called back, trying not to let her annoyance colour her voice. If only they'd held off for one more second. Jane had been about to say something important, something potentially game-changing, she could tell by the look in his eyes. She had to know what it was.

"Go on, Jane," she urged him. "What were you saying?"

He hesitated. She could practically see him retreating back into himself.

"Never mind," he tried to cover, lamely, letting go of her hand. "It was nothing."

"Liar," she challenged. "It was not nothing. Tell me."

"Are you sure you want to know?" he asked.

"Yes!"

"Because once I tell you, there's no going back."

Ordinarily, such a pronouncement would have stopped her in her tracks, but she had to know, just in case he'd been about to say what she thought he was going to say.

"It's OK," she said. "You can tell me anything."

He nodded, and took a deep, calming breath. "I-"

There was another loud, impatient rap on the office door. "Lisbon!" Beckett yelled. "What's going on in there?"

Jane closed his mouth again, and she knew there was no point asking anymore. Already, his usual carefree mask was settling back into position. Sure enough, within moments, he was grinning at her again like always.

"If you leave her out there much longer, she might kick the door in, you know," he said. "I'll bet she could break a cinderblock with her bare hands, so that glass door of yours will be no match."

She sighed, giving up for the moment, but shooting Jane a 'we'll talk about this later' look, so he didn't think he was off the hook completely. "Come on in, guys," she called out, and Beckett and Castle immediately entered the room.

"Hey," Beckett greeted them, eyes sliding suspiciously between them both. Lisbon wondered if she thought they'd been secretly plotting behind her back. "Ryan and Esposito have Hunstrom down in Booking," she informed them.

"Did he give you any trouble on the way back?" Lisbon asked. Castle and Beckett exchanged glances.

"A little macho grandstanding," said Beckett off-handedly. "But nothing interesting, just the usual rubbish you get from smug suspects."

"How are you?" Castle asked Lisbon. "I saw he kicked you pretty hard."

She smiled at him. There was something about Castle which was very disarming. Already, she'd forgotten about being irritated about he and Beckett's very ill-timed arrival, in the face of his genuine concern for her, even though they barely knew each other. This was a man who gave of himself without condition or stipulation, and expected nothing in return.

"I'm fine," she said, for what felt like the thirtieth time in the last hour. "Thanks."

"He knows what he's talking about," Beckett piped up. "Castle's kind of an expert in getting his butt kicked." She smirked at her own joke.

"Ouch, woman," said Castle, in mock-hurt. "Ouch."

But Lisbon saw him glance at Beckett and there was such love in his eyes, it made her have to bite her lip to keep from smiling again. She had no doubt that if Beckett ever decided to jump off a cliff, Castle would throw himself off it too without a moment's hesitation in order to catch her on the way down. She looked at Beckett. It must be wonderful to be loved so completely, and to know that he would be there for her no matter what.

She wondered for a moment why they weren't together yet. What else could Beckett possibly need from a relationship that Castle did not already provide?

But she digressed. It was not the time, not the place, and most of all, not her business.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jane snatch a pen and a scrap of paper from her desk. God knew what he was going to do with that. Make a mini paper aeroplane perhaps, or make an origami octopus or do something she wouldn't come up with in a million years.

"So," she said, determinedly looking away from Jane. "Want to head over to interrogation?"

"Actually, I'm thinking the boys should take this one," said Beckett, to everyone's astonishment.

"Come again?" asked Castle, and even Jane looked up.

"Hunstrom has a serious problem with women," said Beckett. "And as much as I'd like to go in there and play a little 'bad cop, bad cop' with him, I'm not sure it's the best approach. I don't think we'll get far."

"Nice to see that chauvinism is still alive and well in the twenty-first century," said Lisbon.

"I'd just like to point out that I have great respect for women in general, and for you two in particular," put in Castle.

"Hear, hear," agreed Jane, returning to his project.

Beckett rolled her eyes. "Thanks guys," she said. "We'll put you on the mailing list for the next feminism demonstration and bra burning."

"Is she serious?" Jane asked Castle.

"God in heaven, I hope so," he replied.

"If we could return to the point," said Lisbon, irritably. "Are we sure we want to send these two in?"

"Hunstrom's a fan of Castle's, that might work to our advantage. And Jane seems to be pretty good at charming information out of people."

"True," Lisbon agreed. "Everybody likes Jane…until they don't."

Jane shrugged self-deprecatingly, as everyone else chuckled to themselves.

"Well maybe we could just send one of them and one of the others in."

"Castle and Cho?"

"Maybe Jane and Esposito."

"Ladies, ladies," Castle interrupted. "Think about who you're talking about here. This is Richard Castle and Patrick Jane. We got this."

"Yes," said Lisbon. "That's what we're afraid of."

After another few minutes of discussion, and against their better judgement, Beckett and Lisbon decided to allow their consultants to conduct the interview, with them observing behind the mirror.

"All right guys," said Beckett, looking as though she regretted this already. "Go get him." She narrowed her eyes at them both. "And don't screw it up."

In unison, the two men turned to her and saluted.

"Yes ma'am," said Jane, good-naturedly. He then cut his eyes to Lisbon. "How about a hug for luck?" he suggested.

"What?"

"Well, you know this guy is a trained killer. I might go in there and never come back."

"I can only hope," she muttered.

"It's true," he said. "He could jump up and kill us both before you two can even draw your guns. So just in case-" he opened his arms to her, "-bring it in."

It was tempting. She'd learned two days ago that Patrick Jane's arms were a pretty pleasant place to be. But if she hugged him here in front of Castle and Beckett, she'd lose any respect they had for her, no matter how much she might want to.

"Now, there's no need to stand on ceremony," he said. "We're all friends here, aren't we?" And with that, he pulled her towards him into a brief embrace. She might have been imagining it, but she thought he held her a little tighter than was usual, but then again, what did she know? It had been a long time since she'd been hugged, she wasn't a touchy-feely kind of person. Physical displays of emotions weren't really her style. Well, to be honest, any display of emotion wasn't her style.

She quickly pulled away from him, determined not to look at Beckett.

"Don't," she said, firmly, feeling like someone addressing a misbehaving dog. He must have thought so too, for he grinned at her.

"What, aren't I allowed any treats now?"

"How about I just let you off your leash so you can run on the road?"

Castle turned hopefully to Beckett and half-raised his arms. "We could hug it out too, if you want," he suggested, tentatively.

Beckett smirked. "In your dreams," she said. "Don't you have an interview to do?"

Castle's shoulders slumped in disappointment, but he proceeded out of the room with Jane in tow.

"I'm regretting this already," said Lisbon, as the door swung shut behind them.

"Tell me about it," said Beckett.

* * *

><p>Castle had always liked interrogating. Ever since the first time he'd sat in with Beckett he felt the same rush of excitement at the prospect of another piece to the puzzle, or another chapter to the story. He had a lot of memories of the NYPD interview room. Some were nice, like the time he and Beckett had arranged a fake ghost illusion to trick a suspect into confessing, or the time Beckett had interviewed her old school friend Maddy, who had promptly accused Beckett of wanting to 'make little Castle babies'…which she hadn't denied. Some were not so nice, like the two times it was him on the other side of the table as a murder suspect, and every single interview regarding her mother's case, which always seemed to end in disaster.<p>

Of course, his partner was the common denominator in all these experiences. Over the years, interrogation was something he had come to associate with her; something they did together. He had never conducted an interview without her before.

By rights, he and Jane should not even be in this room. They weren't cops, and he wasn't even employed with the police for God's sake. But they had been entrusted with this very important task. It made him feel good to know that Beckett had enough faith in him to let him do this, even if she was just behind the mirror. He glanced up at the glass, and even though he couldn't see her, he knew she was looking right back at him. He could feel it.

He had to do this right. He had to show her that her faith in him was justified, so that maybe one day, she might be able to take a chance on him for real. He knew she was scared, knew she was in pain, knew the loss of her mother had damaged her beyond repair.

But he also knew he was ready for it. He was fully aware of what he was signing up for. She'd told him herself, soon after they'd met. "I'm the 'one and done' type."

One and done. Forever.

Always.

Once upon a time, that concept would have had him running screaming into the next state. But now? Knowing her as he did, seeing her at her best and at her worst. Being the one she could always turn to if she needed it. He'd never been surer of anything in his life.

Forever?

He could handle that.

* * *

><p>The Hunstrom interview was in full swing, and so far, it hadn't been the train wreck the two cops had expected. Frankly, it could have been a whole lot worse. It always was going to be a risk, sending two civilians in to do police work, but Lisbon had to admit, these were no ordinary civilians.<p>

Jane and Castle played off each other well. Castle was thorough and insightful in his questioning, and Jane was well…Jane. He poked, and prodded, made outlandish comments, gauged reactions and put them all together in that brilliant way that only he could. Hunstrom hadn't known what to make of him; people rarely did. He was the kind of person you met once in a lifetime. That was probably a good thing; she was pretty sure that one Patrick Jane was all the world could handle.

She kept her eyes fixed on her consultant watching for signs of him using hypnosis, or any of the other illegal shenanigans that he was so prone to. But he was surprisingly well-behaved today; at least nobody had threatened him with legal action, or filed a formal complaint. It had been a nice change.

"Castle's good at this," she mentioned to Beckett, in passing. "If it weren't for the million dollar suit, he could almost pass for a cop."

"He's got everything but the badge and gun," said Beckett, with a smile. "For all intents and purposes, he's one of us, even if he does act like a five year old playing make believe half the time."

"What does everyone else at the precinct think about it?" asked Lisbon. People often looked down their noses at her for agreeing to sign on with Jane, but she'd always viewed him as the trade-off for a quick closure rate, and subsequently becoming the most successful team in the agency.

"He was a novelty at first, but he's been shadowing me so long now, he's practically part of the furniture," said Beckett. "He's my partner. That's all."

"So, you two…what's the deal?" Lisbon asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Because I'm not buying the 'just partners' thing."

"We're friends. Best friends," Beckett said reluctantly. "Castle's everything you could ask for in a best friend. He's kind, and loyal, and generous, and funny. He puts others before himself. He gives money to about ten different charities. He loves his mom, adores his daughter. He's helpful on cases, and he's as dedicated to the work as we are, and it's not even his job. Don't tell him I said all this," she added. "His head doesn't need to get any bigger."

Lisbon smiled. "He's a good man. And he sure is crazy about you."

"How do you know that?" Beckett snapped, defensively.

"He told me. But you know, it doesn't take a genius to figure it out. The way he looks at you says it all. And judging by that glowing description of him just now, I'd say it's not one-sided."

Beckett flushed, and opened her mouth to protest, but Lisbon neatly cut her off.

"Look I don't know the particulars, and I'm sure you've got good reasons for holding off, but you got a good one right there," she said, pointing at Castle. "And he might not keep on waiting around for ever."

Then she turned back to the interview.

* * *

><p>Beckett pretended to focus on the action in the interrogation room, but her mind couldn't have been further away as Lisbon's words slowly sunk in.<p>

"He might not keep on waiting around for ever."

Castle was always there for her. He always had her back, even when she pushed him away. She'd gotten used to it, knowing she could be as selfish and cold and cruel as she liked and pull away from him, and blame everything bad in her life on him without running any real risk of losing him.

He always came back.

But what if one day, he didn't?

What if he got tired of it all, what if he decided she wasn't worth the effort, that he was wasting his time on her? What if he got sick of giving her time and space, and stopped letting her call the shots in their relationship?

What if he gave up on her?

Most men would have written her off as a lost cause long ago. Of course, Richard Castle was not most men, but even he had to have a breaking point. One day they'd reach it, the moment when he said 'no more.' She wasn't sure she could bear it.

But if things kept going the way they were going, the horrible possibility would become more and more likely. Even now, she sometimes saw flashes of it in his eyes, particularly around Josh. She'd be standing with Josh and then catch sight of Castle just outside her line of vision, dejectedness seeming to radiate out from within him. Of course he never said anything, but she could tell what he was thinking; he was practically screaming it at her. "Why am I bothering?"

"Don't give up," she wanted to say to him at those times. "Just be patient a little while longer. I'll be ready soon. Wait for me."

She'd waited for him after all. She'd been waiting her whole life for her 'one and done,' her soulmate, like her mother had been to her father. She just had to be 100% totally certain before she took the plunge into a relationship.

In her heart, she knew Castle was the one she'd been looking for, her other half, but her head needed a little more convincing. The only thing that would help was to give it time. The ball was in her court; for there was absolutely nothing else he could do to show her how much he cared for her, save for actually coming right out and saying it. And she had the distinct impression that her discomfort with the idea was the main reason why he hadn't told her so already.

It had taken her a while (and a lot of soul-searching) to realise why she was so determined to put the brakes on with Castle. Every single one of her previous boyfriends, she'd pushed away. She pushed Josh into his work, she'd dumped Tom with no warning in the beginning of summer, and as for Will Sorenson, she had never had any real intention of calling him after he got out of hospital, even though she'd promised.

Relationships were easier for her when they came with a get-out clause. With Castle, there would be no such easy outs. She couldn't bear the thought of it; for in her eyes she just didn't deserve to be loved so much. She was not a good or well-adjusted person. She was someone whose humanity was hanging on by a thread. He deserved better.

But he didn't want anybody else, just her, and he didn't back down, and he didn't care what horrible things he learned about her. He just had kept on being there for her.

It was because of the coffee every day, and the way they seemed to spend every spare minute together in or out of the office. It was the way he made her laugh, the way he'd protect her with his last breath. It was because his mere presence made things better; he could be sitting in his usual chair, and without him doing or saying anything she would feel a sense of peace.

The son of a bitch had made it impossible _not_ to fall in love with him.

And now she was standing on the precipice, everything she'd ever wanted within her grasp, if only she could muster up the courage to jump.

If she jumped, would he catch her? Or would she be too late?

* * *

><p>After Hunstrom lawyered up, thereby bringing the interview to a halt, Jane, Castle, Lisbon and Beckett adjourned to the break room for coffee (or tea in Jane's case.)<p>

"Well that was a huge waste of time," Lisbon complained, drumming her fingers irritably on the side of her mug.

"Not necessarily," said Jane. "We learned that Hunstrom is a highly intelligent, highly skilled individual with an overinflated ego."

"You'd know all about that," she said. "Birds of a feather…"

Jane ignored this. "We also learned that he has a fascination with death and the macabre, given his familiarity with Castle's books."

"Not to mention, his career choice," Beckett interjected.

"And we know now that he is in contact with Jerry Tyson," said Castle. "If we can get him to talk, we can finally track him down."

"He's not going to budge," said Lisbon.

"He will," said Jane, confidently. "Given the right leverage. His vanity is his downfall. If we play our cards right, we can use that."

"And if that doesn't work?" asked Lisbon, and Jane grinned at her.

"I have an ace or two up my sleeve."

"Enough with the poker metaphors," said Beckett as she took a gulp of coffee, draining the cup. "I need a refill." She walked to the coffeemaker on the other side of the room.

Castle watched her progress. He'd noticed she'd been avoiding his eye since they all left interrogation. Her brow was furrowed, as though she were in deep thought, and she seemed uncomfortable about something, nervous. He also saw her shoot a furtive, almost guilty look at Lisbon every now and then.

There was a strange buzzing sound. He looked down to see her cellphone, resting on the countertop, brought to life by an incoming call. She'd mentioned she'd been expecting a call from Montgomery today; this must be him now. He looked up to see if she'd noticed, but she was no longer in the room. She'd flip if she missed this call, so he picked up her cell phone and answered.

"Afternoon Captain,"

"Castle?"

Another man's voice, certainly not Montgomery's, said his name in surprise.

"Josh?"

Just what he needed. He had enough on his plate today without an unexpected encounter with Dr Motorcycle Boy.

"Where's Kate?"

Castle bit back a sigh, and forced himself to remain polite. He moved to a corner of the room, away from Jane and Lisbon, who were eyeing him curiously.

"She's just stepped out for a minute, she'll be back soon."

"You're answering her phone now?" asked Josh incredulously.

"She's expecting to hear from the precinct. I didn't want her to miss the call."

"Right," said Josh, clearly not believing him.

Something inside Castle snapped. All his tension and frustration he'd been bottling up seemed to zing through him at the same time.

"I don't have to justify myself to you, Davidson," he said, coldly.

"Ease up, Castle," Josh said. "Well, she didn't waste any time," he added quietly to himself.

"What?"

"Nothing," said Josh, shortly. "Just get her to call me back, would you?"

"Can't it wait?" asked Castle. "We're in L.A."

"I know that," said Josh, exasperatedly. "I need to know when she'll be back, so we can arrange a time for her to come and pick up her stuff."

"What?" said Castle again, in great surprise.

"I've got a Doctors Without Borders mission on next week," Josh went on. "I'm heading out to Ethiopia. I don't know how long I'm staying so she needs to come get all her things out of my place ASAP."

Of course, Mr Heroic Doctor, off to save the world again, without a second thought for his girlfriend. While Castle personally would be happy see Josh take a trip to the other side of the world and preferably stay there permanently, he knew it hurt Kate, the way he kept coming and going like this.

"How does she feel about you going?" asked Castle.

"Haven't asked her."

Outrage coursed through Castle again. So it wasn't enough for him to abandon her on a whim whenever he liked, he didn't even have the decency to tell her about it? She deserved better than this.

"She doesn't know?" demanded Castle. "What were you going to do, text her from the plane?"

Something stiffened in Josh's tone. "It isn't really her concern anymore."

"What are you talking about?"

There was a long pause. "Castle, Kate and I broke up. Didn't she tell you?"

"When?" asked Castle, as he digested this unexpected information.

"Last night," said Josh. At Castle's stunned silence, he went on, sounding slightly surprised. "You seriously didn't know? I thought you'd hear about it the second we got off the phone. She tells you everything."

"The hell she does," said Castle. "I only get to see the tip of the iceberg. There's plenty of other stuff hidden below the surface that she keeps from me."

"Well take it from me, that's a hell of a lot more than I ever got," said Josh, bitterly. "Appreciate it."

Strangely, Castle had felt his animosity towards Josh starting to ebb, the moment he had heard about the break-up. All of a sudden, the cardiologist wasn't the smug, entitled, Beckett-stealing monster he'd made him out to be in his imagination. The threat was gone.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"No you're not," said Josh, angrily. "Don't bullshit me, Castle. This is what you've been hoping for all along isn't it? Me out of the picture, and you get Kate all to yourself again."

"Well, yes," Castle admitted. "But I know how it feels to lose her, Josh, and I take no pleasure in it happening to you."

Well, maybe he took a_ little_ pleasure in it, but he wasn't going to say that, was he?

"While we're being honest, it was actually me who ended it," said Josh.

"Why?" asked Castle. There wasn't a reason under the sun that would make _him_ give Beckett up, if he were ever lucky enough to have her, so what had driven Josh to make that choice?

"I'm tired of it," said Josh, wearily. "I'm over fighting all the time, and never seeing each other. And mostly, I'm tired of always running second place."

"To the NYPD?"

"To _you._"

"Me?" Castle repeated, making sure he'd heard it right, as his heart leapt for joy.

"I'll never measure up to you in her eyes Castle," said Josh. "And I'm done trying."

"But you're the doctor," said Castle, flummoxed by this. "You're the one who saves lives and rides around on a bad-ass motorcycle."

"And for some people, that would be enough," said Josh. "But not for Kate. You can give her something I can't."

"Witty repartee?"

"Time. I don't have the luxury of working when I feel like it, like you. Do you know how many times I rearranged shifts to try and spend some more time together, to have her blow me off because she'd already organised something with you?"

"I'm sorry about that."

Josh gave another frustrated sigh. "Look, it's nobody's fault, it's just the way things are. It's just time for us all to stop pretending otherwise."

"I'll have her call you back," said Castle, eager to put an end to this bizarre conversation. Of all the people he ever expected to have a heart-to-heart with, Josh would be the absolute last one.

"Thanks Castle," said Josh. "And do me a favour and take care of her OK? I don't ever want to see her on my operating table."

"I'll do everything I can."

Castle hung up the phone just as Beckett strode back into the room with a fresh cup of coffee. Her eyes zeroed in on the phone in his hand.

"Castle? What are you doing with my cellphone?"

He held it out to her, his eyes locked onto hers. She was single now. He was single. This could be their chance. But he had to let her make the first move. She didn't even know that he knew about her and Josh calling it quits yet. So as much as he wanted to take her into his arms again right this very instant, he knew he must wait.

"Castle?" she said again, jerking him out of his reverie.

"You got a call," he told her. "You should ring them back."

* * *

><p>It wasn't until Lisbon arrived home that evening and was sitting in front of the television watching the news that she was finally able to address something that had been niggling at her all afternoon.<p>

Not her ribs, she'd taken more aspirin for that, and was determinedly not thinking about it.

Jane had hugged her. Why? Sure, he was known for giving hugs for no apparent reason, but why at that moment, and why in front of Castle and Beckett?

It was not until the news moved on to the sports report, that it finally hit her. She dashed into her bedroom and found the jacket she'd been wearing today discarded on her bed. She felt into the pockets until she found it; the piece of paper he'd managed to slip in there without her knowledge.

_Couldn't say it in front of Castle and Beckett, but it's you, Lisbon._

_I couldn't bear it if I lost you._

_J._

She read the two lines twice, swallowed, and then read them again. Then she threw the paper into the bin.

What had she done in a former life to deserve this? She must have been a serial killer or something to be cursed with a man so unpredictable, and so damn infuriating. How was she supposed to keep their relationship professional when he went around leaving her cute little notes like this? How was she expected to be able to resist him when he could be so sweet and thoughtful when he wanted to be, all wrapped up in one gorgeous package topped off with a smile that could charm a nun into sin?

Oh, how she hated him. The jerk, the bastard, the devil incarnate!

But oh, how she loved him at the same time.

God, she needed a drink.

* * *

><p><strong>I hope you enjoyed. We're getting nearer to the end of the story now. Just a few more chapters to go!<strong>


	13. Loose Ends

**This is the standard apology about the lateness of the update. Also, this chapter is the longest chapter I have ever written for any story, so if you only have a few minutes, I'd recommend coming back later.**

**Rating and pairing same as always.**

**Disclaimer: Please. As if I own either of them.**

* * *

><p>Twenty minutes and a shot of tequila later, Lisbon was dragging her work clothes back on again and grabbing for her car keys. Only two things could have her out of bed and back to the office at this time of night, a new case, and Patrick freaking Jane.<p>

She threw herself into the driver's seat a little too quickly, causing her ribs to twinge slightly. She had a moment's hesitation. Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea. She'd already spent one highly unpleasant car journey just getting home, as her ribs had screamed in protest whenever she turned the steering wheel or changed gear.

Maybe this could wait until morning.

Even as she thought about that though, her hands started the engine seemingly of their own accord. Clearly, her subconscious wanted her to deal with this while she was still good and angry with him. It was telling her to scream at him, throw things, call him names, anything to make him stop playing with her emotions like they were his own personal toys.

If she waited until tomorrow, she'd calm down and decide to sweep this under the rug like usual. No, she needed to confront him now.

She drove back to the CBI, parked in her usual spot, and re-entered the building. The night watchman, Les, raised an eyebrow as she passed him.

"You're back late, Agent Lisbon," he said. "Forget something?"

If only, she thought to herself. She wished she could forget. How much simpler would her life be if she could just erase Patrick Jane from it?

Far simpler, but also way less interesting. Did she prefer her life to be a constant battle or mind-numbingly boring? Did she want less paperwork, or less laughs? More reprimands from her superiors or more time to consider what a screaming mess the rest of her life was? Tough call.

She rode the elevator up and exited in the dark and silent bullpen. She proceeded across the room and found Jane, as expected, stretched out on his brown couch, sleeping like an angel.

She hesitated. Maybe she shouldn't wake him, God knew he needed the rest, and she shouldn't deny him the few hours of precious sleep he did manage to get.

She studied him by the faint moonlight trickling in the window. Even in sleep, he didn't look completely at peace, he was frowning slightly and his arms and legs were positioned at odd angles that couldn't possibly be comfortable. She wondered if he had intended to sleep at all, or had just meant to sit down for a moment before passing out from sheer exhaustion.

He couldn't keep going on like this. He couldn't keep living this way. It was starting to take its toll on him physically, and eventually it would cost him mentally as well. Even such a brilliant mind as his couldn't be put under this much stress and strain indefinitely. Sooner or later, he would break.

He sighed, and mumbled something and Lisbon felt that now-familiar little flutter of affection for him in her chest. This was a bad sign; she was softening now, and within a few minutes she would have lost the anger-fuelled bravado born from his note and be back to the usual warm and fuzzy feelings. If she was going to have this conversation tonight, it had to be now, while she still had a little fight left in her.

She reached over and switched on the lamp on Cho's desk, which was closest. He woke instantly at the sudden illumination of the room, sitting bolt upright, his eyes darting around alertly, as if searching for possible danger. Eventually, they settled on her, and he smiled at her in a puzzled sort of way.

"I know you like to get to the office early Lisbon, but don't you think this is taking it a bit too far?" he asked.

She ignored this, and reached into her pocket for his note.

"What the hell is this?" she asked, without preamble.

She thought she saw a slight flicker of recognition in his eyes, but it was so tiny, and so brief, it could easily have been her imagination. He smiled his best 'innocent' smile as he examined it.

"That's a very good question Lisbon," he said. "This is what we in the English-speaking world know as a piece of paper."

"Don't play dumb with me, Jane," she said exasperatedly. "It doesn't suit you."

To her surprise, he heeded her words and dropped the pretence of blissful ignorance. "That's the note I left for you," he said. "I was hoping you'd find it."

"What is it supposed to mean?" she asked, waving it in front of his face.

"I thought I'd made myself pretty clear," he said.

"Sure," she said. "For now."

"Excuse me?"

"Jane you seem to suffer from your own unique brand of bipolar disease," she said. "You push me away, shutting yourself away in your attic, and then you want to bring me in closer. You ignored me for days when Beckett and the others showed up, and then you kiss me in my office. You didn't bat an eye when I was nearly shot in the head but you come to my place in the middle of the night because I haven't been sleeping. You change your mind and you change it back again. You're up, you're down, you're here, you're there, you're practically a carnival all on your own."

Jane hadn't interrupted at all during this monologue, but the instant she finished speaking he chuckled.

"At least I'm never boring," he said.

"But I never know what to expect from you," she said. "It's practically a full-time job trying to keep up with your mood swings."

"You need a little spontaneity in your life, Lisbon," he said.

"What exactly do you want from me, Jane?" she pressed on, refusing to be diverted. "Because I've been trying to figure that out for seven years, and now I'm out of ideas."

Seven years of fielding complaints, saving his life (not to mention his job) and listening to his insane theories. Seven years of walking into the office and feeling her heart skip a beat when he smiled a good morning. Seven years of bickering, and trying in vain to exercise some kind of control over his antics. Seven years of trying to convince him that his life was too high a price to pay in exchange for revenge on Red John.

She was a failure. She called herself a detective, and Patrick Jane was as much a mystery to her now as he had been the very first day they had met. She'd known right away that there was more to him that met the eye, but if she'd had any idea what she was in for, she might have thought twice before signing on the dotted line.

"I give up trying to work out what goes on in that head of yours," she said. "I just don't know how to even begin to try and help you, or if you even want me to."

It pained her to admit all this to him, but the time for pretending she had it all together was over. His wellbeing was more important than her pride; his fragile mental state more pressing then her feelings of inadequacy and disappointment at being the latest in a long line of people who had failed him.

"You need to give me some guidance," she said, honestly, laying it all on the table. "What can I do? What do you want?"

Jane surveyed her with a long, searching look, apparently pondering the question. She waited nervously for his response. After about a minute, he took a deep, slow breath.

"Sit down," he invited her, moving aside to make room for her. She sank down beside him without argument, her anger, having said her piece, now beginning to give way to tiredness.

"How long have you felt like this?" he asked her.

She leant back against the couch and closed her eyes.

"Long enough to know that it's not going to go away," she said.

Slowly, hesitantly, he reached for her hand again, and she let him take it. With the other, he reached over and stroked her cheek so quickly and lightly that she barely even felt it. His touch left a tingling sensation in its wake.

"There are only two things in this world that I want," he said. "I want to take out Red John, and I want you in my life."

"As what? Your partner, your boss, your friend?"

"All of the above. And I know it's asking a lot of you, but what I want more than anything is to have you for my own."

"What?"

He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed her fingertips.

"You know, for a cop you're a little slow on the uptake," he said. "Even Beckett-"

At the mention of her name, Lisbon scowled and snatched her hand away from him. Trust him to bring up Beckett now, when she'd actually started daring to hope that something might happen. Her anger at him must have shown in her face, because he smiled gently.

"Tame the green eyed monster, Lisbon," he said. "It's not what you think."

"It never is," she snapped. "Go on, what pearls of wisdom did the ever-astute Detective Beckett dole out about this? You two been putting your heads together during those cups of coffee?"

He rolled his eyes. "For the last time, there never was, is, or will be anything going on between Beckett and I. In fact, what I was trying to tell you before you so rudely interrupted, was that she figured out how I feel about you the very first day."

"So that night, when you went out for drinks together?"

"We swapped war stories, and then we talked about you," he said. "That was all."

"Me? You talked about_ me_?"

"She asked me point-blank how long I'd had feelings for you."

In that moment, Teresa Lisbon literally felt her heart stop.

"And what did you say?"

He sighed. "Lisbon, do you remember the day we met?" he asked.

"Vaguely," she said. On September 22nd 2005, she'd been called into Minelli's office and asked, to quote him directly "how she felt about training wild monkeys." Before she'd had time to do more than look politely bewildered, the door had opened once again and Patrick Jane strode into the room in all his glory.

She blamed lack of sleep, dehydration, malnourishment and temporary insanity for the fact that she'd left the office thirty minutes later with a brand new partner and a massive migraine.

"And do you remember during that first meeting when you called me an arrogant, self-satisfied pig and tried to throw Minelli's paperweight at me?"

She smiled. "Good times."

"There was something about the way your eyes were blazing, and the stunning accuracy with which you threw that paperweight. I didn't know it at the time but that was the moment I-"

"Stop!" she interrupted. "Whatever it is you're going to say, don't. Just don't."

"I'm giving you what you asked for. You wanted to know what I want, how I feel? Here it is."

She sighed, and shifted herself an inch or two away from him. "It's what you feel now," she said. "But what about tomorrow, next week, or five minutes from now when you have one of your little episodes, and change your mind?"

"I won't," he said, with such fervour she almost believed him.

"The way I see it, you have the capacity to commit to one thing only, and we both know what that is."

He shook his head. "That's not fair. I've committed myself to this job. I've committed myself to being your friend for seven years. That's got to count for something."

"You stay at the CBI because you need resources and leads," said Lisbon, flatly. "And you and I both know you'd be tossed out of here in five seconds if it weren't for me covering your ass all the time, so you keep me onside. But in the end it all circles back to the same thing: Red John."

It was satisfying to finally give voice to all the things she'd been bottling up for years. She'd been watching him gradually implode for so long, and kept her silence, for fear of sending him over the edge. But it had been he who had brought this up, and he deserved to know the truth about where she stood.

"All I want is for you to be free, Jane," she said. "I want you to be happy, and to be able to live your life the way you want to."

"And how am I supposed to have any of that without you?"

"Don't turn this back on me!" She refused to be guilt-tripped about this. She'd spent many a sleepless night considering her consultant's plight before she finally realized that it was something she simply couldn't fix for him. He had to do it himself. The best she could do was point him in the right direction, and pull him back when he went the other way. "You know I can't help you kill Red John, it goes against everything I stand for. I believe he needs to be tried like anyone else, with the right people deciding his fate. That's the only way we can win."

"The only way I win is if I personally stick a knife through his heart, or put a bullet through his skull," said Jane flatly. She hated the way he talked about taking the life of a human being (even a psychopath like Red John) as though it were a minor thing. No matter what the circumstances, killing came at a big cost. It was why she avoided shooting to kill whenever possible. When you took a life, a part of your own soul died with them. Jane knew this; he had shot Sheriff Hardy to save her life, but it hadn't done anything to curb his lust for revenge. If anything, the threat to her life had made it all the more insatiable. It gave him another excuse to hate Red John, another score to settle. This scared her.

"And that kind of talk is precisely why you and I have no future together," she said. In the early days, she sometimes allowed herself to wonder what might happen if Jane suddenly saw the error of his ways, and gave up on revenge on Red John. He could buy himself a real house, and make some new friends and maybe have an actual life again. He'd meet another woman (for she had no doubt they'd been queuing up as far as New York to go out with him,) they'd get married and have a child. For all his faults, she'd seen him interact with children enough to know that he'd been an excellent father.

It took a couple of years to peel back enough of his defences to get a sense of what she was really dealing with. He still grieved for his family as much today as he had the day he'd lost them. His hatred for Red John had become a part of him; it wasn't something that could be given up on or denied. It would remain within him, festering away until he finally achieved it.

"That's not true," he said. "We just have to wait until Red John is dead. And after that-"

"After that you're asking me to give my heart to either a prisoner or a corpse," she said, brutally.

He flinched. "I'll accept the consequences of my actions," he said.

"But why should I have to? Why should I suffer for your stupidity?"

He sighed. "Look, I get it," he said. "You have absolutely no reason to believe what I say. And I don't need anybody to tell me that I'm not good enough for you. Believe me I am fully aware of that."

She felt some of the anger drain out of her. This was the side of Jane she hated most of all, even more than the murderous anger. It was the side he kept carefully locked away, that only came to the surface when he was really upset or sad, when his entire self-worth seemed to disappear. He seemed to think it was easier to pretend not to care about anything, to detach himself from all emotion. She hated the fact that it had been she to make him feel like this.

"That's not what I said," she said, gentler now.

"It's the truth, though, isn't it?" he said, sadly. "We're at an impasse."

"It's for the best. And it's not like I'm abandoning you completely. You're still my friend Jane and I'll always have your back."

"But what if I want more than that?" he said, petulantly. He reminded her of a whining child, trying to pester his mother into giving him more ice cream, but she stood firm.

"You want more than I can give. That's all I'm offering Jane. Take it or leave it."

He grabbed her hand again, and squeezed it. "So that's your final word then is it?" he asked. "Just friends."

"Best friends," she said, hoping to soften the blow.

"And so this, whatever it is between us, we'll just pretend it doesn't exist?" he asked. "Because I know you know it's there. You let me kiss you, Lisbon, and you kissed me back. That means something."

Her first reflex was to deny, deny, deny, but since they were actually being honest and open with each other for once, why not get it all out in the open?

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't attracted to you," she admitted softly. "And in another place, in a different set of circumstances you and I could have maybe had a chance. But I'm not like you Jane. I don't live in the world of what-if. I go on what I know, not what I feel. And I know that if we started something, it would be a mistake."

He hadn't let go of her hand, so she squeezed it back. He looked up and straight into her eyes. He held her gaze for what seemed like an age, and she wondered what he was looking for. Maybe he was searching for a sign that she didn't mean what she said. Whatever it was, he failed to find it, for he eventually looked away, seeming disappointed.

"OK," he said, finally. "I understand."

"I'm sorry." And she really was sorry, for him, for herself, for both of them. Sorry they were going to miss out on something that could have potentially brought them such joy, in which both of their lives were desperately lacking.

He smiled a little. "Don't be. You're right."

"Excuse me?" she said, hoping to inject a little humour into this frankly depressing conversation.

He took the hint, chuckling. "Don't get cocky," he said. "I'm still right way more then you."

"But I'm right when it counts."

Apparently, this was the wrong thing to say, as his smile faded away, and traced circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. "Yes," he agreed, after a moment. "Yes you are."

* * *

><p>She gently extracted her hand from his. "I should go home, I need to get some sleep. And so do you," she added.<p>

"No promises," he said. "But I'll try. On one condition."

She rolled her eyes. "What condition?"

"That somewhere down the track, if the situation changes and if you're not with someone else-" he swallowed-"we can revisit this."

"This?"

"Us."

She blanched.

"No obligation, no expectation," Jane went on, correctly interpreting her reaction. "I just would like for us to at least discuss it again. And if the answer's still no"-a pause-"then that'll be the end of it. OK?"

She'd come here with the intention of closing the door on this completely, but he seemed determined to keep it open just a crack. She should really put a stop to this idea right here and now.

But…

"OK," she heard herself say, and he grinned at her once more. "But what about you?"

"What?" he asked.

"Well you said we should talk about it this again if _I_ wasn't seeing anyone," she said. "But what if you are?"

"I won't be."

If he did stay single, it certainly wouldn't be from lack of interest. Most of the women at the CBI with the possible exception of Van Pelt (and she had once thought, herself. Ha.) had some sort of crush on her consultant. He was a rare example of what happened when God _did_ give with both hands.

She crossed her arms. "You're the one who always says that there's no such things as psychics, you can't know what's going to happen in the future."

"True," he allowed. "But why I would I want someone else when I could have you?"

To this, she couldn't find an answer.

"Do you know why I was a such a big success as a fake psychic?" he continued. "I was hungry for it. I wanted it more than anything. And I don't believe in settling for second-best."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get the life I want, with the woman I want," he said. "And if it means I have to wait for her, then so be it. I'll wait."

"You might be waiting a while."

"Where else am I going to go? My past and my life are here, and so is my future."

She smiled sadly at him. "You're a smooth talker Jane. You say all the right things, but do you really mean them?"

He chuckled, and let his fingers trail a little way up her arm. "Give it time," he said. "When you change your mind, I'll be here."

"_When_?" she said indignantly, of course having no intention of changing her mind.

He smirked at her. "I'd have thought you of all people would understand how very persuasive I can be."

One hand gently encircled her waist, the other hand reached up to cup her chin, and she felt herself being drawn in to him as if she were being pulled along by an invisible magnet. Their lips met in a tender kiss that set her heart racing, and then all too soon, she felt him pull away, and he was looking at her the way she'd always hoped somebody would.

She wanted to forget that she was his long-suffering boss, and he was her tortured consultant and pretend they were two normal well-adjusted people, who needed each other in nice, healthy ways rather than twisted, sick ones.

It was OK for normal people to fall in love with their handsome, charming, brilliant (maybe a little crazy) colleague. Normal people were allowed to be happy when it turned out he loved them back, rather than sick to the stomach. Normal people were allowed to wonder about the future and see things like houses and marriage, rather than death and despair.

Unfortunately, she and Jane were not normal people. But perhaps just this once, they could pretend. She wanted to kiss him again, and again until the need for oxygen forced her to stop. She wanted him to touch her, hold her in his arms and kiss her all night until the sun came up.

She could tell by the mischievous glint in his eyes that he had guessed what she was thinking. But instead of indulging her desires he simply shook his head.

"There'll be plenty more where that came from, whenever you're ready," he said. "Just say the word."

She blushed furiously and quickly got up off the couch and all but ran to the door, only just remembering to pause and say goodnight before taking off across the bullpen. From behind her, she heard him softly wish her a goodnight also before there was the click of the lamp being switched off and all was plunged into darkness.

* * *

><p>The coming of morning brought Richard Castle a conundrum. Ever since his little chat with Josh yesterday afternoon, his brain had been in overdrive on how best to use the unexpected nugget of information. Kate and Josh were broken up. They were both single at the same time. They were away from home, staying in a (reasonably swanky, given the NYPD budget cuts) hotel. Finally, after three years of desire and wishing and wanting, the stars were aligned.<p>

If there were ever a time for him to make his move, it was now. For once, he held the power. He knew something she clearly didn't want him to know and that information was the key. Most of the night, he had lain awake, thinking about how best to approach, for he knew that he was only going to get one shot at this. It had to be perfect. He had to sweep her off her feet so thoroughly that there was no way she could shoot him down. Easier said then done.

What was he to do? Flowers? chocolates? (Please. Dr Motorcycle Boy could've thought of that one, and anyway she'd never go for something so trite.) A poem? A note? (What was he, twelve?) He could buy her jewellery, (she'd never wear it) take her out for a nice dinner, (well he'd tried that once and look how that had turned out) take her some other place romantic, (too Sleepless in Seattle) make some grand romantic gesture in the precinct, (she'd shoot him) make grand romantic gesture in private, (but where? And what?) Enlist help from Lanie (not likely) enlist help from the guys (even less likely) enlist help from his mother (As if.) find some sneaky way of getting her to go out with him without realising it (ask Jane about hypnosis.)

Every idea he came up with was more pathetic than the last. Some writer he was; why was it he could think up a million different ways of killing someone without breaking a sweat, but when it came to something like this, he had zero imagination?

In the end, he did what he always did. Nothing. He presented himself at their usual table in the hotel restaurant at seven for them to have breakfast together. Five minutes later, she joined him. She thanked him for the coffee he'd gotten for her. He ordered bacon and eggs. She ordered waffles. They bickered, they laughed, and they talked about the case and stole bites of each other's food. He glowered at the waiter who checked her out while he refilled her coffee cup. He offered to pay, she refused to let him, so they split it. He pulled out her chair for her, helped her into her coat, felt his stomach clench when she smiled at him, and followed her out of the restaurant. Business as usual, except for the fact that every time he looked at her all he could think was _'Josh broke up with her. Why hasn't she told me?'_

"Want to share a cab to the CBI?" she asked him as they walked out onto the street.

"Sure."

She raised her hand, and immediately a taxi disengaged itself from the traffic and pulled up beside them. She got in right away, and told the driver the address, but he hesitated, wondering if he should just blurt out what he knew right now, just ask her straight out if she'd ever want to be with him. Put her on the spot, and not back down until she gave him a straight answer, yes or no.

He could end this right now, all this doubt and all this indecision, here in a taxicab in the middle of Sacramento, without grandeur or fanfare. No witnesses but the random taxi driver they'd never see again if he asked her now, did she love him or not?

"Castle?" Her voice broke into his thoughts. "Are you coming or what?"

He couldn't do it. He was a coward. Couldn't ask her. Too afraid of the answer. Too afraid to fight for her. Too afraid of losing her. Didn't deserve her.

He didn't say a word as he got into the cab, and shut the door. The driver pulled away from the kerb. They sat in silence for a few blocks. He watched the buildings and people flick by out the window just so he wouldn't have to look at her and see what he'd never have to call his own. Someone else's wife. The mother of someone else's children. Someone else's soulmate. Not his.

"What's up Castle?" she asked, and when he finally manned up enough to look at her, he saw her peering at him with a mixture of confusion and concern. He wished she wouldn't.

"Nothing," he said, forcing a smile onto his face. "Why do you ask?"

"Because we just passed a billboard for the 'Heat Wave' movie and you didn't make a single cocky remark."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Detective, but you can be assured that I'm just as self-satisfied about it as I was yesterday," he said. "Feel free to call me an arrogant jerk or anything else you see fit."

"It's not as fun if I have your permission," she quipped. "And besides, you have a right to be happy about it. It's a huge deal."

He forgot about feeling sorry for himself for a moment as he scoffed in surprise. "But you hate the idea of a movie," he went on. "In fact, you've been against the whole Nikki Heat thing right from the beginning."

She smiled. "Sure, for me Nikki Heat has been a gigantic pain in the neck that I really could've done without. But look what it's done for you and your career. And despite the annoyance you bring me on a daily basis, you're my friend, and I'm proud of you."

"Even though it almost got you killed?" he asked. He'd never fully forgiven himself for his part in the Scott Dunn case. Some nights he still went cold at the thought of what might have happened if he hadn't figured out there was a bomb in her apartment.

"I'm a cop. I spend half my life almost getting killed," she said. "And the other half I spend catching killers with you, my partner. I think that's pretty good math, don't you?"

He could only gaze at her as she turned away. How the hell had this perfect creature ended up in his life?

"Kate," he said, before he could stop himself.

"Yeah?"

"I-"

"All right folks that'll be twenty dollars," said the driver as he nosed the cab into the kerb in front of CBI.

"I got this," Castle amended, and she smiled as she got out of the car and walked to the door. He wondered if strutting like a runway model was something she did on purpose, or if it was just how she walked.

The driver let out a low whistle. "Damn," he said softly. "She's your girl? You are one lucky man."

"She's not my girl," he said, shortly.

"Is she available?"

"Not to you."

The driver held his hands up in self-defense. "OK, take it easy man. You called dibs. I get it."

Castle scowled at him. "Actually you really don't," he said. Nobody 'called dibs' on Kate Beckett. He opened his wallet, and shoved a bill into the driver's hand. The driver looked at it incredulously.

"Man, this is a hundred dollar bill. I can't change this!"

"Keep the change," said Castle, brusquely. "Maybe you could use it to buy yourself a clue." He got out of the cab and slammed the door behind him.

* * *

><p>For the umpteenth time, Patrick Jane found himself beginning the day with an inadequate amount of sleep, but for the very first time, he really didn't care. A straight twelve hours of sleep couldn't have had him in as good a mood as he was this morning.<p>

He was crazy for a gun-toting, sarcastic, straight-talking firecracker with dark hair and the softest skin he'd ever touched. And she wanted him right back. And while being together was a 'no' for now, he knew if he were patient it would eventually become a 'yes.'

The delay was a good thing for both of them. God knew, she wasn't the only one with issues. He knew if he was ever going to be the man she deserved, he had to put some things to bed. Red John was of course, a big part of that. He also needed to make peace with the memories of Angela and Charlotte. They'd always be a part of him, and he would always love and miss them, but he had to be able to let them go. That was going to be difficult; quite possibly it would be the hardest thing he would ever do, but he owed it to Lisbon to at least try.

Angela would have liked her, he thought. Though his wife had not been quite as fiery as Lisbon, and slightly more patient, in one way they were very much alike. They had both saved him. Angela, from the carnie life he loathed, and Lisbon who was saving him from himself.

It didn't mean he was through seeking revenge on Red John. And it didn't stop him from wanting to tear the murderous bastard limb from limb. But it made him want to live. Before, he'd been fully prepared to sacrifice his own life in exchange for Red John's, an eye for an eye. He was ready for a long stay in state prison (he'd already been imprisoned once, and quite frankly, it hadn't been as bad as everyone said. Besides, escaping had been child's play.) Now, for the first time, there was something to be gained if he somehow came through it alive and without a prison sentence.

Today was a good day.

He smiled at an impassive Cho, a bewildered Ryan and Esposito, a suspicious Rigsby and Van Pelt, an amused Beckett, and a scowling Castle, as each alighted the elevator.

"What are you so happy about?" snapped the writer, as Jane greeted him.

"I think the question is, what are _you_ so _un_happy about?" asked Jane. "I think that we're not too far from breaking this case, and isn't that good news?"

"Spectacular," Castle retorted.

Jane saw Beckett glance at Castle, frowning. "What is with you this morning?" she asked her partner. "You've been acting weird since breakfast."

"Nothing," said Castle, unconvincingly. "I've never been better. I'm going for coffee," he added, and left the room without a backward look. The moment he was out of earshot, Jane turned to Beckett.

"What did you do to him?" he asked, with interest.

"Me?" she asked irritably. "What makes you think I did anything?"

"In my experience, men only get that depressed over one thing: women. Something must have happened."

"Castle's right, you are in an annoyingly good mood today," said Beckett. "Why?"

The answer to that question emerged from her office, where'd she been working (or rather, hiding) ever since he'd arrived at work. For some reason, she looked even more beautiful than usual today. She walked towards them all, deliberately avoiding Jane's eye. He noticed her gait was still a little laboured; her ribs must still be bothering her, though of course she'd never say so.

"Let's just say I had a really good night last night," he answered Beckett, and out of the corner of his eye saw Lisbon bite her lip nervously as if one of the others would decipher his cryptic words and figure out precisely what they were doing last night.

Beckett raised her eyebrows, but Lisbon interrupted before any awkward questions could be asked.

"Morning all," she said briskly, looking around at them all, receiving various murmurings, and half-hearted waves in response. "Where's Castle?"

"Sulking in the breakroom," said Beckett. "I'll go get him." She made to rise from her seat but Jane held up a hand to stop her.

"Let me."

She shrugged. "Suit yourself. But he can be pretty stubborn when he wants to be."

"I can handle stubborn," he said confidently. "I've had lots of practice with Lisbon." He winked at his partner and headed to the breakroom, feeling her looking daggers at his retreating back.

"How are you feeling this morning, Lisbon?" he heard Ryan ask. "Castle said you took a pretty hard knock yesterday."

"I'm fine, Ryan," she said, but warmly, so Jane knew she appreciated the thought. "I'm thinking we should begin with a full background check on Hunstrom today," she went on, presumably to Beckett. "We should go through his known associates and see if we can find your Jerry Tyson. If they've worked together before now, they must have some means of communication and we need to know what that is. The next time we interview Hunstrom I want us to be fully prepared. I want us to know him better than his own mother does. And I want someone to phone up all the other victim's families and look for any link between them and Van Keil, no matter how small it is."

Lisbon's voice barking orders at the team eventually faded away as Jane neared the breakroom. He found Castle sitting at the table holding a cup of coffee, watching the steam spirals issuing from the top. Jane leaned against the doorframe and waited to be noticed.

"What do you want, Jane?" asked Castle.

"They're running background checks in there," he said. "And slacking off during boring paperwork is kind of my thing. Can I join you?"

Castle sighed. "It's a free country."

Jane fixed himself some tea and slid into the seat opposite of Castle's. The writer still stared into his mug as though wondering if he could drown himself in it.

"So are you going to tell me what the problem is or do I have to guess?" asked Jane.

"Three guesses," said Castle.

"Beckett."

"Got it in one."

"And?" Jane prompted, circling his hands.

"She broke up with her boyfriend the other night," said Castle.

"I'd have thought that would be a good thing for you."

"It would be, if she'd something about it to me."

"So how did you know it had even happened?"

"I spoke to him," said Castle, and when Jane raised his eyebrows, added, "it's a long story."

"I'll bet. But I would advise you to be patient, and wait for her to come to you, rather than push the issue. Good things come to those who wait."

Castle eyed him shrewdly. "What brought on this surge of positivity today? It's not like you."

Jane grinned. "You know that feeling when something you really want is finally within your reach? That's how I'm feeling today."

"Good for you," said Castle, dully.

"Patience, Castle," said Jane, sipping his tea. "Patience."

A few silent minutes passed as Jane drank his tea, and Castle stared moodily into space. Jane got up to rinse his cup. He reached for Castle's untouched coffee.

"I'm going to assume you don't intend to drink this."

Castle shrugged, but allowed him to take the cup out of his hands. Jane carried both to the sink and tossed the dregs of the tea and the cold coffee down the drain.

"All right," Castle said suddenly as Jane stowed the two cups away in the cupboard. "I'll bite."

"What?"

"Why are you suddenly such an advocate for patience? Has waiting around ever gotten you anywhere?"

"How do you mean?"

"You want Lisbon," said Castle, flatly. "And she wants you. It's clear to anyone who's ever seen the two of you interact. But neither of you act on it, so nothing ever progresses. Is that what you want?"

Jane shook his head. "I never said to wait around forever, just until the timing's right."

"So you don't deny having feelings for her?"

"Would you believe me if I did?"

"No."

Jane shrugged. "Do you deny the fact that you're in love with Beckett?"

"Of course not," said Castle sadly. "It's not like it's a secret, but what exactly is your point here, Jane?"

"She knows how you feel about her. She knows you'll be there when she's ready; there's nothing else you can do. You have to leave the rest up to her. If you push it, she'll push you away."

"Tell me something I don't know," said Castle sarcastically.

"I'll tell you something about those partners of ours. They love to be in control, so I say we let them have it. Or at least let them_ think_ they have it."

Castle regarded him with an air of mingled awe and slight disapproval.

"You have a twisted mind, Patrick Jane."

He smirked. "Sometimes to get what I want, I have to play a little dirty. It's always worth it in the end."

"As a friend, I'm going to advise you to watch your back. I wouldn't like to be in your shoes if Lisbon figures out what you're doing."

"Meh. I've pulled heaps of crap on her over the years and she hasn't murdered me yet."

"There's always a first time."

Jane chuckled at that, and after a moment Castle joined in. Castle seemed in a far better mood now, and Jane was glad that he'd managed to cheer him up. That was what friends did, after all.

At that moment Lisbon appeared in the doorway, looking irritated.

"Having fun?" she asked, icily.

"Yes thank you," said Jane easily. "We were just having some tea and coffee, and a chat. You're welcome to join us if you like."

"No thanks. The 19th century just called and it wants its plan back," she deadpanned. "But back in the 21st century, we're in the middle of a case. So unless you have some diabolical plan involving tea and scones to help us catch the killer, Jane, get your ass back into the bullpen before I kick it there."

"The 19th century huh?" said Jane. "I could just see you in the 19th century. Long frilly dresses, tea parties, spending all day wondering who you were going to marry…"

"Having men around who behaved like actual gentlemen instead of insufferable jerks," she finished. "I wonder what that's like." She glared at him. "Bullpen. Now."

Obediently, Jane and Castle rose from their chairs. Jane paused by the door just behind Lisbon.

"After you, my lady," he said, gesturing for her to go first. She rolled her eyes. "What?" he asked. "You said you wanted me to behave like a gentleman," and then, lowering his voice so Castle wouldn't hear, he added, "I'll be your Mr Darcy any day my dear. And trust me, I know exactly how to sweep a woman off her feet." He let his fingers graze the small of her back for just a fraction of a second.

She pretended not to hear him, and stomped off down the corridor. He smirked at Castle, who grinned back.

"Jane, you're a lucky man," he said.

"And don't I know it?"

* * *

><p>Beckett looked up from her computer as Lisbon, Castle and Jane re-entered the bullpen. Castle was smiling now, apparently having gotten over whatever had been bothering him all morning. What had Jane said to him? It seemed like their consultants' little bromance was shaping up to rival even that of Ryan and Esposito.<p>

"Any luck?" Lisbon asked the room at large.

"Found something in Hunstrom's financials," reported Cho. "Two days before each murder $80,000 per victim was wire-transferred into his account."

"Well yes obviously, that's his fee. Can you find out where these payments are coming from?"

"We're working on that," piped up Esposito, who was sharing a computer with Van Pelt.

"But the weird thing is that when these payments come in, half the money gets transferred straight back out again," said Cho. "I don't get it."

"And does this happen every time?" asked Lisbon.

"Two hours after every payment. Like clockwork."

Silence fell, as everyone pondered the whereabouts of the missing money. Beckett grabbed a copy of the financials and ran through them again. Surely, there must be some clue to where all that money was going. When she looked up, it was to see Jane and Castle grinning at each other like they'd just won the lottery.

"What?" Beckett asked, fearful of another crazy theory involving aliens, or the CIA, or MIB or the Justice League of America or some secret science developmental lab under the sea (God she was even starting to _think_ like Castle) or something equally as far-fetched.

"It's Tyson," the two men said, together.

"Tyson?" she repeated. "He's paying the money to Tyson?"

"Well think about it," said Jane. "It makes perfect sense. We were wrong when we thought Hunstrom was just an accomplice. What if he's a partner?"

"A partner? Like as in a business partner?"

"Yes," said Castle. "Two professional killers, using the same M.O to make it look like there's only one. That way, if one of them gets caught, the other goes out and kills again, giving the one in custody an iron-clad alibi so we have to let him go."

"Which would explain why Hunstrom didn't seem worried at all when we interviewed him," said Jane. "He was waiting for another body to drop. It's quite a clever little system, really," he remarked. At Lisbon's look he hastily added, "in a sick, psychopathic kind of way, obviously."

"And it also explains why the locations of each kill have been so erratic," said Castle. "There are two of them, they can cover twice the ground in half the time."

The idea seemed ridiculous when they'd first said it, but as Beckett let it sink in and really thought about it, it all started falling into place. Jerry Tyson had always been a step ahead of them, and now they knew why. There was two of him.

"Jane, how sure are you about this theory?" asked Lisbon.

"As sure as the sky is blue, Lisbon," he said.

"And Castle, how about you?"

"I'm positive. Everything fits."

Lisbon turned to Beckett. "If what they're saying is right, you know what this means, don't you?"

"There's going to be another murder," said Beckett, grimly. "Soon. Hunstrom's been in custody for nearly eighteen hours now, if Tyson's going to act it's going to be soon."

"But how are we supposed to figure out his next target?" asked Ryan. "If this one is purely to throw us off, there's not going to be a money trail to follow. Tyson will just grab the first person that's handy."

"We ask the person who knows him better than any of us," said Castle. "Hunstrom's probably used the same play at some stage, if we can get him to talk…"

"But we can't get him to talk!" said Rigsby. "You guys tried for hours yesterday and he never gave it up."

"So let's kick it up a notch," said Lisbon. "You and Cho and Ryan and Esposito can tag-team him, wear him down and don't let him leave until he gives us something."

"Do you think that'll work?" asked Beckett.

"It has to. There's no other way."

"OK, call down and have Hunstrom brought up right away," said Beckett. "Van Pelt finish up those background checks. And you guys all get yourselves ready to interrogate. You're going to need to bring your A-games on this one."

Lisbon pulled out her cell phone and speed-dialled.

"Hi this is Agent Teresa Lisbon," she said, when someone picked up. "I need Warren Hunstrom brought to the Serious Crimes Unit immediately." There was a pause. "_What?_ Are you serious?" The heads of the rest of the team flicked towards her. "When did this happen, and why the hell wasn't I informed?" After about a microsecond, she carried on. "I don't care if it is your first day here, he is a suspect in a series of murders…oh believe me you're not sorry yet, but you soon will be."

Jane edged up beside her as she bellowed threats at the unfortunate person on the other end of the phone, and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. She shrugged it off impatiently, but he simply put it back on again and squeezed.

Lisbon seemed to come to herself slightly. She stopped shouting into the phone, and hung it up.

"Hunstrom was released."

"What?" everyone gasped.

"His lawyer greased the wheels, and they let him out an hour ago."

"We have to find him," said Beckett. "Where would he go? Home? To a bar? To a friend's house?"

"Someone pull up his phone records," Lisbon barked. "See if he's made or received any calls since they let him go." Ryan and Rigsby hastened to obey, and she turned to the two consultants.

"I'm open to crazy theories, here guys," she said.

Jane frowned. "If I were him, where would I go?" he said softly to himself. "I've just skipped out on a murder charge, and I'd want to put some distance between me and the cops until the heat's off."

"I need to get somewhere safe," said Castle, joining in. "And I need somebody I can trust to not rat me out." Abruptly, his head snapped up. "Beckett," he said.

"Yeah, sure Castle, he'd come visit me," she said sarcastically, but he shook his head at her. It seemed Jane was on track with him though, because he was nodding now. "Yes," he said softly. "Beckett and Lisbon."

The women in question exchanged confused, slightly fearful looks. It had finally happened. Their consultants had finally gone around the twist.

"I really think you're heading down the wrong path, guys," ventured Lisbon.

"No you don't get it," said Castle, frustrated. "If I were in trouble, Beckett's would be the first place I'd go. And Jane, you'd turn to Lisbon, right?"

"Right."

"Still not following," said Beckett.

"I'd come to you, Jane would go to Lisbon, and Hunstrom would go to the person he trusts the most too…his partner."

And finally Beckett understood.

"You think he's with Tyson?" she asked.

"Most likely."

"Too bad that doesn't help us at all, because we don't know where he is!"

"Yes we do!" called out Ryan. "Hunstrom made a call to a landline in Sacramento right after he left here. We're running the number down now."

"Make it quick," said Lisbon. "If he risked a call to a number that was traceable he probably isn't going to stay there very long."

Ryan's computer bleeped. "We've got a hit! Number traced back to a duplex downtown. We'll have to split up, and hit them both at the same time, so they can't slip out."

"All right, we have one chance to catch them before they fade into the woodwork again," said Beckett. "Let's do it." Within five minutes the entire team was ready to go. They split into two groups, headed by Beckett and Lisbon, and piled into the SUV and van.

* * *

><p>Once again ordered to stay in the car in no uncertain terms by a stern Beckett, Castle watched as the two groups of agents approached either side of the duplex. They stealthily arranged themselves outside the doors and waited for the signal. He saw Beckett and Lisbon exchange glances and nod at each other, before simultaneously kicking the doors open.<p>

Castle heard the repeated shouts of "Police! Don't move!" as everybody rushed into the residence. He heard doors being flung open inside as they searched for the fugitives, more shouting, and then the bullets started flying.

Shots rang out in rapid succession. It seemed Tyson and Hunstrom were fighting for their lives. The commotion soon attracted a small crowd of onlookers. Neighbours and passing pedestrians stopped, staring open-mouthed as the battle inside continued.

They were all too close. At any moment, a stray bullet could fly out and hit any one of them, the elderly man, the young couple, and the woman holding her baby. He tried calling out to them, blasting the horn, but the din from the firefight drowned him out.

"Do they want to get killed?" he said angrily to Jane, who was sitting beside him.

Jane shrugged. "It's human nature," he said.

"We can't let them stay there," said Castle. "It's too dangerous."

He had to do something. So, ignoring Beckett's muttered threat that she'd flay him to within an inch of his life if he got out of the car, he opened the door and leapt out.

"Everybody get back!" he commanded the little knot of people. "Official police business!" They all ignored him, as someone inside fired a volley of shots, followed by a moan of pain, which sounded male. He thought of Rigsby, Cho, Ryan and Esposito, and prayed that none of them had been the unfortunate one.

Then, as soon as the shooting had started, it stopped. Everything went eerily silent, and the little throng of spectators tittered amongst themselves.

"Is it over?" he heard someone ask.

"Seems like it," replied another.

"Don't get any closer," Castle said, knowing that it could all start again without a moment's notice and it wasn't over until they brought the suspects out in handcuffs.

"It must be over," said someone else. "They must have got them."

"I'm going to find out!"

To Castle's horror, a kid of about twelve or thirteen, no doubt inspired by adolescent bravado and a desire to impress the girl standing next to him, disengaged himself from the group and approached the house. Ignoring the calls of Castle, his girlfriend and several other people to come back, he got closer and closer. Castle rushed forward. He grabbed the kid by the collar of his shirt and shoved him out of the way, as with a deafening crash of breaking glass, another bullet came hurtling straight at them.

He was just fast enough to get the kid out of the line of fire, but he himself wasn't quite so lucky, glass raining down on him, and he yelled out in pain as the bullet nicked his left arm. He felt it start to bleed, but he couldn't do anything for it yet. He had to get the kid to safety. With his uninjured arm, he dragged the boy away from the fight and back to the rest of the group.

"Get back!" he barked again, at the rest of them. "I'm not playing around!" Horrified by what they had just witnessed, they obeyed, and shuttled well back until they were against the kerb. He released the boy's collar and he scampered back to his young girlfriend, who slapped him.

"You moron, Hayden!" she snapped. "You could've been killed!"

Castle's arm felt as if it was on fire. The sticky blood was starting to make its way down his arm, and the pain was intensifying with every passing moment.

"Here," said a voice, and he looked up to see Jane beside him, holding a bandage from the mini first-aid kit in the SUV. He applied it to Castle's wound. "You're a moron too," he told him. "Isn't that why Beckett leaves you in the car, to keep you _out_ of trouble?"

Before Castle could answer, the door swung open and Beckett and Rigsby emerged, dragging with them a handcuffed and disgruntled-looking Hunstrom. The watching crowd broke into applause as they pulled him towards the car. Beckett looked around in confusion, apparently surprised to have an audience and then her eyes fell on the bleeding Castle and filled with panic.

"What the hell have you been doing?" she snapped at him. "I told you to stay in the car!"

The crowd tittered. "Officer," a man of about thirty eventually spoke up. "This man saved a kid's life. He's a hero." There were several murmurs of agreement.

"Castle?" she said, turning to him. "Is this true?"

"Is there an answer I can give that won't result in you hating me?"

She glared at him. He took that as a no.

"Yes, it's true."

"Where's Tyson?" Jane asked her.

"They've got a whole bunch of little hidey-holes in there," she said. "He could be in any one of them. He's playing it smart, unlike this idiot who thought he could outgun us."

Hunstrom scowled at her as Rigsby fumbled with the door handle.

"I couldn't let anything happen to the kid," Castle told her. "You would've done the same thing."

She didn't answer him, and turned to the crowd. "You guys need to get out of here!" she barked.

Maybe she was just more threatening than he was, thought Castle as they all immediately did what she said.

* * *

><p>Jane let Castle continue applying pressure to his own wound, and turned back towards the house. Not a sound came from it. Where were the others? Were they OK?<p>

Then, he saw something appear in the broken window. There was movement, and the flash of a gun barrel, taking careful aim, directly at-

"Beckett, get down!" he shouted. She reacted instantly and just as well she did, for she ducked just in time for the bullet to whiz past her and strike Hunstrom in the heart. Rigsby was sprayed with the hitman's blood as his body hit the ground, dead instantly.

A figure leapt out of the window and tore off down the street. Jane saw Jerry Tyson flash past him, pursued by Cho, Ryan, and Lisbon. They were fast but Tyson was faster, eventually only Cho was able to keep pace with him, but when they reached the main road, instead of pausing, Tyson raced onto the tar darting between cars and trucks which honked and swerved to avoid him. Cho hesitated for just a moment too long and after he too played chicken with the afternoon traffic, Tyson had vanished.

Cho walked back towards them, stopping next to a grimacing Lisbon who was holding her injured chest.

"Sorry, boss," he said. "I lost him."

"It's-OK," she gasped. "Not-your-fault."

By the time they had rejoined the rest of the group, Beckett had taken over responsibility for tending to Castle's injury, Van Pelt was kneeling beside the dead Hunstrom inspecting the bullet hole, and a revolted-looking Rigsby was standing, spattered with blood, trying not to throw up.

"Esposito," said Lisbon. "Call this in."

The next half-hour passed by in a blur of activity. An ambulance was called, and after some persuading (or rather threatening) by Beckett, Castle was taken to the local hospital to be patched up. CSU arrived and began to process the scene. Rigsby was given several large evidence baggies and a CSU jumpsuit to replace his bloodstained suit.

Jane surveyed the whole scene thoughtfully, and after a while Lisbon appeared at his side. He smelt her before she saw her, just the smallest hint of cinnamon in the air.

"Hey," he said quietly. "Are you OK?"

"I'm fine," she said.

"No you're not," he said. "But there wasn't anything else you could've done. You're injured, you couldn't have chased him down."

She grunted, but he knew she wasn't really listening to him. She'd be beating herself up over this for at least the next day or two. There was nothing he could do about that.

"This must have been his exit strategy all along," she said. "Make a clean break, kill his partner and disappear."

"Sounds like he's been taking lessons from Red John," said Jane. "He won't come back here. I think today was a particularly close call. And besides, his beef isn't with us, it's with the NYPD."

"They'll get him," said Lisbon.

"Oh, I have no doubt that they will," said Jane. "And at least we got Hunstrom."

"He can't be tried now," said Lisbon, watching the coroner zipping up the body bag.

"But he also can't kill anyone else," said Jane. "That's a win in my book."

She looked into his eyes and he felt as if he was falling into a deep, green ocean.

"Nobody wins when people die, Jane," she said. "Nobody."

* * *

><p>Castle sat on a bed in the emergency room, squirming as a nurse removed glass from a deep cut on his forearm. His bullet graze had been dressed and bandaged and all his other cuts bathed in antiseptic.<p>

From a chair beside the bed, his partner smiled as he squeezed his eyes shut and whimpered in pain.

"You're such a baby," she said.

"I have to get stiches," he complained. "I hate stiches."

"You should be glad that's all you're getting," she said. "You don't know how damn lucky you are."

"Sure I do," he said.

"Good," she said seriously. "Maybe one day you'll actually stop taking stupid risks."

"It was either this, or let the kid get shot," said Castle. "I'm sure you'll appreciate I only saw one option."

They were silent for a time, until the nurse had finished stitching him up. "There now Mr Castle. Those painkillers ought to kick in soon," she said. "I'll just go get your discharge paperwork."

"Thank you," Beckett said, as she left the room.

"We lost Tyson," Castle said, disappointedly.

"Yes," Beckett agreed. "But he'll be back. We're not through with him yet. And we'll get him in time."

"I know."

She inspected the fresh stitches in his arm. "It's a pretty neat job," she remarked.

"Probably not quite cardiologist standard though," said Castle, mulishly, before he could stop himself.

"Excuse me?"

"I know you and Josh broke up," he said, and at the stunned look on her face, continued, "when he called you yesterday I spoke to him. Why didn't you tell me?"

She went pale. "I didn't want you to get the wrong idea."

"And what idea would that be?" he asked. "The idea that anything might ever happen between you and me? Because if that's the case, just tell me now, Kate. Put me out of my misery. I don't know how much more of this I can take."

He was beginning to feel light, and airy. Clearly, those painkillers had started to do their job.

She bit her lip. "It's not what you think," she said.

"I don't even know what I think anymore," he told her. "I used to think that if I just waited long enough, you might…we might…but now I have no idea."

"I can't get into this," she said. "This isn't the time, or the place."

"It never is," he said, and sighed. "The last thing I want to do is pressure you, or upset you. And I'm not saying you have to make any decisions now. All I'm asking of you is just to tell me whether at any point in the future you think we could give it a try. Because Kate, I love you. I love you so much it hurts; so much that it makes me sick to the stomach. You're all I could ever want or need."

His mind was still emptying. He had the distinct impression that he had just said something very important, but he couldn't quite place it.

"That's the painkillers talking," she said.

"Isn't," he slurred. "I mean it. You so… wonderful… Kate. Always thought so."

Through his slightly blurred vision, he saw her form rise from the chair and approach his bedside. He felt her fingers stroke his forehead, and then she leaned towards him and kissed him. He wanted to reach for her, and pull her down to him and never let her go, but his arms were heavy and wouldn't obey. He never wanted the kiss to end, it was magical, but his eyelids were suddenly too heavy and he was so, so tired…

He never felt their lips part, because he was asleep.

* * *

><p>Beckett jumped as someone behind her cleared her throat. She turned to see the nurse, holding a clipboard, and smiling.<p>

"Didn't mean to interrupt," she said. "But I have Mr Castle's forms."

"I'll take care of that," said Beckett, reaching for them. "Is he going to remember any of this?" she asked, would-be-casually as she filled them out.

"He'll be a bit woozy for a while, and it's not uncommon to experience some memory loss," said the nurse, and Beckett sighed with relief as she handed back the forms.

"Thank you," she said to the nurse again. "When he wakes up, I'll take him home." Or at least, back to the hotel.

"You're welcome to stay with him until then," said the nurse. She paused, seeming to consider what to say next. "Miss? If I may," she went on. "I don't know the particulars but in my opinion, even a painkiller love confession is still a love confession."

* * *

><p>The next day, the NYPD team prepared to depart. Beckett for one was ready to go home. Ryan had already called Jenny to make plans for the evening and Esposito said all he wanted was a beer at the Old Haunt.<p>

Castle had mostly recovered from yesterday, and to Beckett's delight, hadn't mentioned a word about what had transpired in the hospital room. She wasn't ready to deal with it just yet. But one day…

Her cell phone rang.

"Beckett," she answered.

"Hey," came Lisbon's voice. "Just wanted to wish you a safe flight home."

"Thank you," said Beckett.

"And I also wanted to thank you for your help with this case. I'm sorry it didn't turn out the way you wanted it to."

"At least we got Hunstrom. And we have Van Keil and four others for conspiracy to commit murder. I'd say we had a success."

There was a pause. "I hope you catch the son of a bitch," Lisbon said, and Beckett knew she meant Tyson.

"We will," she said, fervently. "And good luck to you as well, with Red John. I really hope you take him down."

"So do I," said Lisbon. "Before someone else gets to him first. How's Castle doing?"

"A little sore, but otherwise he's fine."

"That's good. Say goodbye to him for me, and to the others too."

"Will do. Say goodbye to Jane and your guys as well."

"Of course. And Beckett…I hope there are no hard feelings regarding…well, you know."

"Absolutely. Water under the bridge. I hope to work with you again, Agent Lisbon, but not too soon."

Lisbon chuckled. "Back at you, Beckett. Goodbye."

"Bye."

* * *

><p>Castle rode the elevator down to the reception desk to check out. He rubbed his temple as the floor numbers flashed, counting down to the lobby. He'd had a headache ever since he'd left the hospital yesterday, leaning on Beckett. He didn't remember much of what had gone on inside, just being stitched up by a nurse, and Beckett in a chair beside him.<p>

There was something else too, a hazy image of Beckett standing over him, a tingling in his lips. He sighed. It must have been the painkillers. Those things would have taken out a rhinoceros.

"Good morning, Mr Castle," said the concierge, when he reached the desk. "Checking out?"

He nodded.

"Lovely. I trust you enjoyed your stay with us?"

"More or less," he answered. It had certainly been interesting, if nothing else. He handed back his room key and settled the bill for the mini bar and room service.

"Thank you sir," said the concierge. "And there's just one more thing." He reached behind the desk and pulled out a silver briefcase. "A man left this at the desk for you this morning. He said you'd know who it was from."

Castle grinned as he inspected the case. He thought he'd seen it before.

"Thanks," he said. "I'll take it."

He took a seat on one of the couches in the lobby to await the others. He popped the locks on the case and opened it. It was full to bursting with neatly stacked bank notes, and a white envelope was tucked into the side. He opened it, and read the letter inside.

_Castle,_

_I hope you're all right. I also hope that we are now square. You stopped Lisbon from taking a bullet to the head for which I will always be grateful, and I don't know if you remember, but I stopped Beckett from taking a bullet to her head yesterday after you were injured._

_I think we should call it even._

_Enclosed is the rest of the money I won from that casino a few days ago. I hear you have set up a scholarship fund in Beckett's mother's name. (Don't ask me how I know this, I just do.)_

_Please consider this money as an anonymous donation. And when Beckett asks where you it came from, lie. Tell her anything. I hope you don't mind, but I took a leaf out of your book and used some of the money to buy Lisbon a coffee machine for the office. She needs one._

_I hope to see you again._

_Your friend,_

_Patrick Jane._

* * *

><p><strong>If you managed to get to the end of this incredibly long, supersized chapter, I salute you. I hope I didn't bore you and that the end of the case wasn't too abrupt for your taste. There is one final chapter in store, and I warn you now, it will be fluffy. I hope that's OK with you.<strong>


	14. Loose Ends II: All Tied Up

**Yes, you are seeing right. I actually updated in under a month. I know. I'm shocked too.**

**This chapter turned out a little angstier than I intended but I hope you will still like it.**

**Rating and pairings are the obvious.**

**Disclaimer: So not mine.**

* * *

><p>"Why do people insist on killing each other?"<p>

Lisbon typed in the last few sentences of what felt like the hundredth report that day, the case of a twenty-five year old man who'd been killed because he'd constantly parked in his colleague's designated space. Of course, instead of talking to him about it, the colleague had instead lain in wait for him one night and stabbed him five times with a kitchen knife.

During the man's confession, Lisbon had needed to force herself not to get up and physically knock some sense into him. What was happening to the world, that something so minor warranted the taking of a life? She really worried about the state of humanity sometimes.

"Why can't people find other ways of resolving things then murder?" she said.

From the couch a few feet away, there was a soft chuckle.

"You'd better hope they don't, or we'll all be out of a job," Jane said.

"It'd be worth it," she said. " And I could find something else to do."

"I don't think so," he said. "You, my dear, were born to be a cop. It's who you are."

In all honesty, she really couldn't imagine herself being or doing anything else. Even when she'd been young, and all the other girls had dreamed of being singers or movie stars, she had never seen the appeal. Her whole life, she'd been taking care of people, so it only made sense that she should have a career that did the same thing. Police officers looked after people, they stopped bad things from happening, and they made a difference.

But on days like today, it really made her wonder if she made a difference at all. Their murder victim today had a wife and a young son. The boy, only three years old, would never know his father, purely because someone else had thought they had the right to take him away. Had the murderer even given a thought to the pain he was going to inflict on these people? Or had he been so blinded by anger he could only see revenge?

"Yes, well sometimes I wish I could be someone else," she said. "Or be some_where_ else, where people solved their problems with negotiation instead of violence."

"Oh Lisbon," said Jane, and she knew he was smiling. "Sometimes I think you forget that the world is not made up of people like you."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Simply that you are a very rare commodity," he said. "Most people care more about their own problems then those of everyone else."

She processed that strange statement for a moment, and eventually decided it had been intended as a compliment. He certainly hadn't seemed to be mocking her, but then again, what did she really know about the way her consultant's mind worked?

"Thank you?" she asked, hoping for some guidance to his intentions.

He chuckled. "It was a compliment."

There was no new case today, so they'd all (except for Jane of course) spent the majority of it doing paperwork. He had spent most of the day on her couch, sleeping, which she had been pleased about. If he was sleeping, then he wasn't bored, and if he wasn't bored, he wasn't wreaking havoc on everyone else. That was more than a fair trade-off for having to put up with his constant presence all day.

He yawned, stretched, and began to ease himself up into a sitting position.

"I think it's safe to say we're not going to get a case today," he said. "I might head off for the day."

"Sure," said Lisbon, nonchalantly, though inside, she was practically bursting with curiosity. For the past month, Jane had got into the habit of leaving the CBI early one day each week. The first few times he'd done so, she had asked him where he was going to be told only that he had 'stuff to do.' She had no idea what kind of 'stuff' would be pressing enough to justify his need to devote time to it every single week, but she hoped against hope that it wasn't what she had begun to suspect.

Most of the time, Jane only became cagey like this when something came up that had to do with Red John. She wondered if he had decided to pursue his own private means of tracking down his nemesis, doing his own investigation as it were. As with most of his endeavours, she was terrified about what might happen, should he succeed. What if he did find Red John? What if he tried to take on the serial killer on his own? What if something happened to him? She'd never forgive herself if she weren't there with him when it all went down.

* * *

><p>Jane could feel Lisbon's eyes on his back as he left her office, knew she was simply dying to ask him again what he was doing. She'd been worrying ever since he'd started taking these early afternoons. She probably thought he was going after Red John on his own, hatching some secret plan to bring the serial killer down.<p>

In a way, she was right. What he was doing did involve Red John, but not in the way she thought.

He drove his blue Citroen through a pair of wrought-iron gates, and parked at the side of the road bordering a lawn dotted with neat rows of gravestones.

Yes, over the last month, for the first time since his brother-in-law had dragged him there, Jane had been coming to the cemetery to visit his wife and daughter's graves.

Or at the very least, he had been trying.

The first week, he'd spent an hour driving up and down the street outside the gate to the cemetery, unable to bring himself to enter.

The following two weeks had seen him drive inside but be unable to get out of the car. He'd merely sat, clutching the steering wheel, and staring at the spot where he knew they were.

Today, for the first time, he managed to work up the nerve to exit the car, though he still didn't dare approach any closer. Instead, he leaned against the Citroen and listened to the wind whistling through the trees, and the faint humming of a lawnmower somewhere off in the distance.

He couldn't tell Lisbon that he had been coming here. She'd want to come with him, to make sure he was OK. He couldn't let that happen. He needed to do this by himself; he had to find it in him to be able to take this life-changing step and put his past behind him.

The day he could walk all the way up to their gravestones and look at them without wanting to vomit; that was when he'd know he was ready to let them go. Possibilities he'd never allowed himself to consider before became clearer now to him with every passing day. His debt to his family, repaid. His wedding ring, off (he felt his fist clench involuntarily around it.) Himself, happy, instead of constantly angry and vengeful.

One day, he hoped he could bring Lisbon here. She, who had been his support system for so long now, deserved to see this place. If it weren't for her, he wouldn't even be standing here right now, trying to work up the courage to walk away from his car. She was the one he owed everything to, his life, his job, and his sanity. She had the right to see what it was that had made him need her so much in the first place.

Maybe then, she would finally understand.

At the end of it all, he wanted her to see that he was willing to do what it took to be a better man for her. That a future with her was what he truly did want. But it was to be a long, slow process, and the threat of her meeting somebody else in the meantime remained all too real. It was however, a risk that he had no choice but to take.

His brain was screaming at him to take a step away from the car, but his body seemed simply unable to comply. Not yet. The only time he'd be worthy of seeing the earthly remains of his wife and daughter, was when he'd rid the world of the animal that was Red John, and corrected the cosmic balance.

Then, and only then, could he start getting his life back.

* * *

><p>"Here's your large latte with extra sugar Agent Lisbon."<p>

The young man at the coffee cart smiled at her as he handed her the cup.

"Thanks, Greg," she said, her mind already back in her office where there were three more reports waiting to be finished, along with four emails she needed to send and two phone calls, one to the D.A's office and one to Forensics. In fact, she really needed to make that call to the D.A right away. Keeping herself busy was the only way to stop herself from fretting about Jane, and what he was doing. Besides, she was still furious with him for rocking up to the CBI yesterday and gleefully announcing to them all that he was using some of his casino winnings to buy them an espresso machine for the office.

Cho had rolled his eyes, Van Pelt had smiled, Rigsby had whooped, and Lisbon had crossed her arms and told him that on no account whatsoever was he to bring his ill-gotten spoils into the CBI. Of course, for all the notice her consultant took of her, she might as well not have spoken.

This morning, the shiny new machine had been delivered and set up in the breakroom. A steady stream of agents had been trickling in during the day and sampling the coffee. It had only annoyed her more to hear them all oohing and aahing over the smooth blend and full flavour.

Well, she was perfectly happy with the coffee cart, thank you very much. And more to the point, she took great pleasure in denying Jane what he wanted most of all. She wasn't stupid. While she knew her consultant was enjoying the near-hero treatment he was receiving from everybody at the office right now, she also knew perfectly well that he'd bought that coffee machine with her in mind. Outrageously expensive gifts were his classic fallback if he ever wanted to get her off his case about something.

Well, if he expected gratitude and compliments from her, he could just think again. He could manipulate her, lie to her, piss her off, but she was not going to be bought, no matter how many emeralds, ponies, and couches he threw her way.

She took a sip of her latte, frowned, and then held the cup back out to Greg.

"You couldn't make this a double shot, could you?" she asked.

"Anything for my favourite customer," Greg said. At her questioning look, he flushed. "You're the only one who has ever bothered to learn my name," he admitted quietly. "To the others I'm just the guy who works the coffee machine."

She smiled sympathetically at him. "I'm sure that's not true."

"Well, your team are always polite to me," he allowed, as he added the extra shot. "But only because they follow your lead." He cleared his throat nervously, and his hand was shaking violently as he gave her back the coffee. "I was just wondering, if um, maybe you'd like to go out with me sometime. To dinner. Or lunch. Or whatever."

Lisbon got the impression that he'd been psyching himself up to ask her this for quite some time. He'd said it all so quickly that she'd had trouble understanding him, and hadn't been able to look at her. She held back a sigh. She could really do without this today.

"That's nice of you, Greg," she said, as gently as she could. "But I don't think that's such a good idea."

Immediately, she thought of Jane, and whether she'd be so quick to refuse if _he_ had been the one who made the offer. This did not help.

For a moment, the barista looked crushed, before valiantly forcing a smile onto his face, and waving an airy hand as if the matter had no importance.

"That's OK," he said. "No problem. I just thought I'd ask, but it's no big deal."

On the contrary, she could tell that to him, this was an extremely big deal, but couldn't help being grateful that he was giving her an opportunity to escape before it could get any more awkward.

"It's because of Jane, isn't it?" he blurted out, unable to stop himself.

OK, so maybe it did have to get more awkward.

"I always suspected you liked him," Greg went on, smiling ruefully. "The first time I saw you together."

"You're wrong," she said, wondering why she had to keep telling people this. "Jane and I aren't together."

"You smile a lot when he's around, and the only days you forget to tip me are when he's with you."

That could possibly be true. Jane did tend to command her attention most days. He could be very distracting, what with his crazy antics and outlandish plans, and that smile.

She reached into her wallet, pulled out a five-dollar note and stuffed it into Greg's tip jar.

"See you tomorrow, Greg," she said.

He smiled at her. "He's a lucky guy," he said.

"I told you," she said, with some frustration. "We're not together."

"Maybe not yet," said Greg. "But you're holding out for him. And I see the way he looks at you. Classic star-crossed lovers scenario." He gave a humourless chuckle. "I never stood a chance."

"Star-crossed lovers?" she asked, with a little smirk at the antique turn of phrase.

"Lit major," he explained. "Wanted to be an author, now all the writing I do is names on the side of coffee cups."

His disappointment reminded her forcefully of another writer she knew. He had the same look on his face right now that Castle always did when he talked about Beckett. There wasn't anything she could do for Castle, but she knew he'd want to help this kid out. That was the kind of person he was.

"Do you have a manuscript?" she asked.

"Just some crap that I've been working on for years and is only half-finished."

"Let me know when you finish it. I know a guy."

Greg garbled his thanks, and she finally left the cart, thinking about what he'd said about Jane. Was she holding out for him? She didn't think she was, really. She'd only agreed to discuss the possibility of a relationship after all, she hadn't agreed to the relationship itself.

And her refusal for dinner with Greg was quite justified. He was almost ten years her junior, far too young for her.

But what about the two other men who had asked her out over the past month; the bartender from the bar near her place, and the guy she'd met at the supermarket? She'd turned them both down flat in one sentence, citing work as an excuse, yet on both occasions, her thoughts had jumped instantly to her consultant, much like they'd done just now.

She enjoyed Jane's attention at the office, basked in the glow of being the 'chosen one' who got to know his secrets. He'd given her the two best kisses of her life. He'd promised her more, many more, if she wanted them. He rarely left her side, he made her laugh when she was at her lowest ebb, and he surprised her every day, both in good ways and bad, and he was exciting and challenging and fun to be around.

Basically, now she came to think about it, he was everything she'd ever wanted in a man. All the others she'd dated were missing one or two key ingredients, but Patrick Jane had the full set.

She arrived back in her office and closed the door behind her. She took a seat at her desk, and buried her face in her hands.

She might as well just give up now.

She was sunk.

* * *

><p>"Richard, <em>how<em> could you not have told me?" Martha Rodgers swept around the living room in the way only a true actor could. She turned with a flourish and faced her son, who closed his eyes, praying for patience.

"It's been almost two months since you came home from Sacramento, and you kept this to yourself all this time."

"Mother," he began, as calmly as possible. "We were there to investigate three murders, not to make glittering social connections. Haven't you got enough of those anyway?" he asked, churlishly.

The Grand Dame rolled her eyes. "One can _never_ have enough connections, darling. Haven't I taught you _anything_?"

"Well, under your tutelage, I was able to mix most cocktails by the age of seven," he said, mildly. "But other then that, being your son has mostly been one long lesson of what _not_ to do."

Martha narrowed her eyes at him. "I did the best I could to cater for the needs of a son, as well as my own deep-seated need for the stage. Every time I left you for an acting job, it ripped my soul in two."

"Could've fooled me," Castle muttered under his breath. For the billionth time in his life, he cursed his big mouth. He and his mother had actually been having a quite normal conversation to begin with. Of course, by Castle family standards, a 'normal conversation' could take in any manner of things such as why a straight-laced lawyer from Manhattan would spend two nights each week dressed as a woman (stage-named Constentina Sparkles) and how it may have gotten him/her killed.

Their latest case at the NYPD was a doozy, and who better to go for insight on their victim's intriguing night-time habits, then the biggest showman (or woman) that Castle knew? After spinning an Oscar-worthy tale of the man's apparent struggle with convention and overwhelming desire to perform, his mother had then treated him to a list of the best performers she had seen.

It was then that Castle, the eternal fool, had put his foot in it. He'd mentioned a few incidents with Jane in Sacramento, forgetting his mother had been a fan. She had demanded to know how he knew the man, he had told her the story, her dramatic outrage had commenced, and so it had gone on since then. For almost two hours now.

He stared pleadingly at his cell phone, hoping that Beckett would receive his telepathic message and ring him with an update on the case, or a request for coffee, or anything to get him away from this.

"Patrick Jane," his mother said dreamily. "He was quite famous back in the day. He truly had a gift. He was so sympathetic, so charming, so…handsome. I almost wished I had some long-dead relative just so he could put me in touch with them. I could've really dredged up some sorrow. There wouldn't have been a dry eye in the house." She sighed. "It would have made _wonderful_ television."

"Mother," said Castle, resigned to once again making a point that had already been addressed twice during this agonizing conversation. "He's not a real psychic."

"Of course he is," she retorted, stubbornly. "I saw what he could do with my own eyes, and nobody takes Martha Rodgers for a fool."

Castle stifled a laugh with difficulty. "Other then your husband who cleaned you out of house and home, literally, and foisted you on me," he said.

"It triggered a change in my life, for which I am a stronger person," said his mother, with dignity. "And there is nothing better for an actor, then to suffer."

"Of course," Castle agreed.

"So what was he like?" Martha asked. "Mr Jane?"

"He's smart. Like genius-level brilliant. And he knows it. Sometimes he comes across as a bit of a jerk," said Castle, truthfully. "But he's a good guy. He does the best he can with what he has, which isn't much. Took a bit of a shine to Beckett," he added, off-handedly.

"Really?" said his mother, cautiously. "And how did you feel about that?" She knew that most of Beckett's would-be suitors came in for some sort of punishment from her son, whether becoming base material for a bumbling character in a book, or chum for his group of writer buddies at poker night. She blamed herself for Richard's difficulties with sharing; after all he'd been an only child.

What misfortune did Patrick Jane have to endure, for showing interest in Detective Beckett?

Castle knew what she was thinking, and shook his head. "It wasn't like that," he said. "I thought it was like that, for a while, but it wasn't."

"Well, that's a good thing then," she said, and they exchanged smiles. "But if I may say so, darling," she ventured, "you need to stop getting so upset every time Beckett spends time with other men. You really don't have any right to tell her who she can and can't be friends with."

"I know that," he said. "And I'm working on it."

This was true. Ever since they'd returned to New York, and with Josh well and truly out of the picture, Castle had been playing the waiting game. And when she came to work one day and talked about Harry, who'd she'd had dinner with last night, he focused on pushing down the jealousy, and for the first time ever, succeeded.

And why? Because even though he couldn't remember what had happened in that hospital, he knew it had been something. Something big.

It turned out that Harry was an old friend from the academy, a happily married man with two kids. There was no need for Castle to feel threatened whatsoever. Oh, he knew that many more men would cross their path between now and the time he and Beckett finally (if ever) gave it a shot. And he would still feel jealous at times. He was never going to get used to others having her when he couldn't, but he owed it to her to at least be less openly hostile. Her happiness came first. He had to remember that.

"I'm glad to hear it," said Martha. "But that means you have no excuse not to tell me that you know Patrick Jane."

Castle sighed. And then, miracle of miracles, his cell phone rang. He snatched it up and saw Beckett's caller ID.

"Thank God," he said into the phone. "I don't care what they say. Hell is a place on Earth, and I'm living it."

He smiled at Beckett's low, soft chuckle. "Talking to your mom?" she asked.

"How could you tell?"

"You've got that tone," she said. "The one that sounds like you want to throw yourself off a bridge. Anyway, the guys figured out that club our victim performed at and the name of his dance troop. Constentina Sparkle and the Sequin Sisters."

"You can't be serious. Please tell me you're serious," he said, in delight.

"You can't make this kind of crap up, Castle," said Beckett. "Wanna take a ride with me down to the club and see what we can find out?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"I thought so. I'll pick you up in five."

"Duty calls?" asked Martha, as he hung up.

"A police officer's work is never done," he said.

"I know," she said. "And what exactly is it that you're doing, again?"

He chuckled. "I love you, mother."

"Love you too, kiddo."

* * *

><p>Lisbon arrived home from work in a state of such deep exhaustion; it was a wonder she could even stand up. She literally ached down to her bones. Her head pounded. It was an effort to breathe, to blink, and to think. She staggered over to the couch and collapsed onto it, hearing it groan as it took her full, dead weight.<p>

She could not realistically see herself moving from this spot for at least the next few days. Every last ounce of energy had drained out of her.

Red John was dead.

After years of searching, they had finally, _finally_ found the serial killer. Jane of course, had been the one to track him down. He'd been acting weird for weeks, secretive, moody, so naturally, she had feared the worst. She'd been right.

It turned out that Jane and Red John had been keeping up a correspondence of sorts, messages sent to Jane's cell phone from untraceable numbers, Jane sending letters to a post office box officially registered to no-one. Three months this had been going on, right under her nose, and she hadn't known.

Some detective she was.

And then today, her consultant just disappeared, without warning. There one minute, gone the next, without so much as a word.

They went through Jane's seldom used desk, tore the cushions off his beloved couch as well as the one in her office, for any clue to where he might have gone. She put an APB out on his blue Citroen, but that plan came to nothing when they found it still in the parking lot. Clearly, he was taking no chances in stopping them from coming after him.

That was when she'd realised exactly what they were dealing with. The only reason Jane would go to such lengths to keep them away from him was that he was closing in on Red John.

She called anyone and everyone she could think of that Jane might turn to for help. Minelli, Hightower, Rosaline Harker, but they all said they hadn't heard from him. She went through all their Red John cases again looking for any clue or similarities but found nothing.

Time was running out. Jane had been missing for almost four hours and they were still no closer to tracking him down. He could be dead already, or lying somewhere, with his lifeblood draining away and she wouldn't be able to help him.

Red John was just too damn good at what he did. There were no loose ends anywhere. All his victims and associates were dead, except for Kristina Frye, who was far too damaged to be of use to anyone. She phoned every taxi and bus company to find out if they'd remembered picking Jane up. Nothing. She showed his photo to street vendors and pedestrians surrounding the CBI. Nobody recognised him.

It wasn't until she was pacing around the bullpen, cracking her knuckles, that she finally thought of one more person she could call. The one suspected associate of Red John who had yet to meet a horrible death. Bret Stiles.

She loathed Bret Stiles. It made her sick to the stomach to even think of Bret Stiles. She had very much hoped they would never cross paths again, but still, ignoring the bile rising in her throat, she looked up his number and dialled.

"Agent Lisbon," he said when she'd got through his two secretaries. "What an unexpected surprise."

"Where the hell is he?" she asked.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Cut the crap, Stiles. I know that you have some sick little friendship with Red John. You know where he is, and if you know what's good for you, you'll tell me."

"I deduce from your abruptness, that the time has finally come. Red John and Mr Jane are finally going to settle the score."

"Not if I can help it," she said, vehemently.

"I could tell you where they are, but you will be too late," said Stiles. "It will be over."

"You have three seconds to tell me what I want to know, and if I get there and something's happened to Jane, your life is going to become very, very unpleasant, very, very quickly. Do you understand me?"

There was a long silence.

"Very well Agent Lisbon," he said. "I suppose I always knew this day was going to come. It's finally time to pick a side." He dictated an address, which she scribbled down on a scrap of paper.

"Godspeed, Agent," he said.

She didn't remember a lot of what had happened next, at that nondescript brick house that Stiles sent them to. There were flashes, however. She distinctly remembered the smell of cordite in the air when they'd first shown up, which had turned out to be from a poorly-aimed shot from a gun she'd never even known Jane owned.

She remembered entering a room, to see Jane and Red John circling each other like sharks, sizing each other up.

She had a clear recollection of her own desperate pleas to her consultant to stop this before someone got hurt, to just, for once in his life, listen to her.

She'd seen a glint of silver from a knife in Red John's hand as he lunged toward her. She was fast, and avoided his reaching arms, and then she instantly knew his plan. He had never intended to end things with Jane today; the idea had been to get _her_ here, and kill her in front of him, to add another level of torture to their little game. She understood now why Jane had been so determined to keep her away. He must have suspected double-cross, and been trying to protect her, in his own way. But she knew he'd never miss the opportunity of a one-on-one with Red John.

She didn't want to die. Not just for the primal, instinctual reasons, but who would watch out for her brothers if she were gone? Her niece? Her team? And who in the wide world would take care of Jane? _Someone_ had to. She didn't flatter herself that her death would have nearly the same effect on him as his wife and daughter's but she had always tried to be a calming influence on him. What would happen to him without her to look after him?

She couldn't die today. Too many people needed her. So she knew she mustn't let Red John get his hands on her.

She remembered two gunshots, and then Red John fell down dead. She looked around to see both Cho and Jane with guns raised, saw them pass something white between them, and then Van Pelt and Rigsby came bursting into the room, from where they'd been searching the rest of the building.

"Whoa," said Rigsby, stopping dead, so that Van Pelt nearly collided with him in the doorway. "He's dead. He's really dead." He looked to Jane and Cho. "Who did it?"

The wait for the answer was excruciating. It felt as if the last seven years hung in the balance for Lisbon, her past and future all riding on this.

"I did," said Cho.

* * *

><p>For the first time in his life, Patrick Jane didn't know where he was going next. He'd always a plan, a goal, but now he had nothing. He had achieved his life's purpose. Red John was dead.<p>

He sat through interview after interview at the police station and answered the same questions over and over again. Yes, he was sure the dead man was Red John. Yes, he owned a gun. Yes, he had fired at him, and missed. Yes, he had considered Lisbon to be in mortal danger. Yes, he believed Agent Cho's actions had been justified. For hours and hours it went on, until finally it was over. The most they had been able to charge him with was possession of an unregistered weapon. He paid the fine, and gladly surrendered the gun. He wouldn't need it anymore anyway.

Cho emerged twenty minutes after he had, without charge. He was simply an officer acting in the line of duty.

Jane's plan had worked.

Cho had cottoned on to what was going on a month ago. He had surprised Jane at the office one night when he thought everyone had gone home, reading the latest communication from Red John.

At first, Cho had urged him to tell Lisbon, saying he would do so himself if Jane refused. But when Jane told him of his suspicion that Lisbon was the intended target, he changed his mind. Cho was loyal to their boss in the way that night followed day, unwavering.

The plan had been nothing more then the two of them simply trading guns when they'd found the chance during the showdown. At Jane's signal, they both fired, Cho deliberately aiming wide, so that there would be no doubt that the kill shot had come from his Glock, fired by Jane.

They wiped their prints from the barrels and then swapped back. The whole process had taken less then thirty seconds. Thirty seconds to absolve oneself of murder.

Cho had one stipulation in agreeing to this plan. They had to tell Lisbon the truth. Jane had been reluctant, but agreed. In his heart, even though it might drive her away from him for good, he knew she more than anyone deserved the truth.

He lay on the couch some more, barely noticing the people and things around, and not much caring. He pulled himself out of his funk enough however, to shoot a meaningful look at Cho as he left. He owed the man a lot today.

What was he supposed to do now? He had the rest of his life to live, but what to do with it? Was there even any point going on?

He dismissed that thought. Suicide was not an option. It was the easy way out, the coward's way out. And if he lay here any longer, he knew the idea would become ever more appealing. He was after all, a coward. He got up slowly, and knew what he had to do.

He knocked at the door, and it opened after a minute. She looked beyond exhausted. Her eyes, dark-circled, and drained of their usual lustre, widened as she took in the sight of him.

He shouldn't be here. It was unfair of him to expect more of her than she had already given. But he had nowhere else to go, and nobody else to turn to.

She was all he had now.

"Hey," she said quietly.

"Hey."

"Are you OK?"

He shrugged.

"Come in."

He followed her meekly into the living room. She sat him down on the couch, fixed him tea, and brought it to him. He sipped it mechanically, not tasting it, not feeling the sensation of it running down his throat, only becoming aware he'd finished it when he saw the empty cup.

He stared at it for a few seconds, before she gently tugged it away from him.

"You can stay here tonight," she said. "You shouldn't be alone."

He wondered if she had guessed about his suicidal thoughts. She had probably thought about this day almost as much as he had, probably thinking it was up to her to make him want to keep on living.

He sat there, still as a statue, and let her do her nurturing thing, admiring her simple beauty as she brought him a sandwich, insisting that he eat, dug around a closet for some old clothes of her brother's for him, and then disappeared into her bedroom, returning with a pillow and a blanket.

"It's not as nice as yours at the office," she said, of the couch as she threw the blanket over it. "But it should do for tonight."

"It'll be fine," he said, speaking for the first time in over forty-five minutes. "And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here and foisted myself on you."

"It's OK," she said.

"It's not OK."

"Yes it is," she said. "In fact, if you hadn't shown up on your own, I probably would've come got you myself. "

"Even so," he went on. "Someone ought to be taking care of_ you_."

She scoffed. "I don't need anyone to take care of me," she said. "I take care of myself."

"Well, you're doing a very poor job of it," he said, bluntly. "Have you taken a look at yourself recently, Lisbon? You're a wreck."

"Thanks a lot!" she said, offended. "OK, so I haven't washed my hair in a couple of days. So sue me."

"That's not what I meant and you know it," he said. "I'm talking about how pale you are at the moment, you're thinner; you're needing more coffee than usual just to get through the day."

"So? I have fair skin, I have a job that requires a lot of physical activity and I've got performance reviews to write this week so I need the extra energy," she said.

"Most of which you just burned out by fussing over me," he said.

"Jane," she said gently. "What you've been through today would be enough to break anyone. You're in no state to be taking care of yourself right now. I'm just glad you felt you could come to me."

"Where else would I go?"

They sat in silence for a moment, as they pondered that.

"You're right, you know," she said. "I am a wreck."

"It's OK. So am I."

She chuckled, grimly. "What a pair."

He glanced at her, as she let out a long sigh. "You should go get some rest," he said. "You need it."

She nodded. "There are spare blankets in the hall closet if you need them," she said. She touched his arm. "Try and sleep. It'll do you good."

He lay down on the couch, listening as she flicked off the light and shuffled out of the room. He heard the shower running, and suddenly stop a few minutes later, before more footsteps, and the click of her bedroom door as she closed it behind her.

He lay there for what seemed like hours, the enormity of all that had happened today still processing in his mind. His body screamed for sleep, but his mind was far too busy. So many things to think about. If things had gone differently today, if his plan had failed, how different things would be right now. Red John would still be alive and at large, and he himself truly alone in the world, grieving for his best friend.

He and Cho had taken a hell of a risk. But it had been worth it. He was glad they'd done it, and he'd do it again.

If he had to bet, he'd say Lisbon was lying awake right now too, turning it all over. Wondering. Without fully being conscious of what he was doing, he found himself walking down the hall to her bedroom, and turning the handle.

She was sitting up in bed, her bedside lamp on, and a dog-eared novel in her hand. She didn't seem all that surprised to see him.

"Can't sleep?" she enquired.

He shook his head.

"Me neither."

He gestured to the book. "Moby Dick?" he asked.

"Seemed appropriate." She patted the spot next to her. "Come sit with me," she said, and when he hesitated, "It's OK."

He lowered himself onto the bed, as she closed the book, and tossed it aside. Her hair was damp from the shower, she was wearing her jersey and not much else, he guessed, by the way she shifted herself further under the covers.

Any other time, this knowledge would have conjured up wicked thoughts from the nether regions of his mind, but his overwrought brain seemed to be unable to accept any kind of new information just now.

"Lisbon?" he said. "There's something you should know."

* * *

><p>"Beckett! Beckett!"<p>

Kate rolled her eyes as her partner's voice rang out like a foghorn across the office. A few heads popped up in irritation at the disturbance, and glared at Castle as he tore out of the elevator at a run. She saw him narrowly miss Karpowski who was turning a corner with an armful of files, and bellow an apology back to her. Even Captain Montgomery poked his head out of his office as the writer thundered past. With the eyes of the whole room upon him, Castle skidded to a stop at her desk.

"Have you-have you seen the paper this morning?" he gasped, breathlessly.

She sighed. "If it's another glowing review of the Nikki Heat movie, then I've got another news flash for you Castle; I don't care."

He shook his head vigorously. "It's not that." He pulled out a copy of the Ledger from his jacket and shoved it into her hands. "Just look. Page ten."

She flipped to page ten, where a large headline proclaimed, "Serial Killer Meets Demise At Hands Of CBI." Just underneath were two photos, one of a smiley-face drawn in blood, the other a long lens photograph of Jane and Lisbon talking to what looked like the county coroner.

"Oh my God," she said, quietly, skimming over the article. "They did it."

"Yeah," he agreed. "According to that, no charges have been laid. Apparently Cho took the shot that killed him."

"So it's over for them," she said. "Just like that."

"Jane must be pleased," said Castle. "This is what he always wanted."

"Mmm," she said, non-committaly, not fully listening. She wondered how she would feel if she were in Jane's position right now. If she caught her mother's killer and her years of investigation finally came to an end. Would she be happy? Relieved? Would she be scared to find out who she was without the case to hide behind? Would she feel lost, unsure of where to go or what to do next?

She knew one thing. When that fateful day finally came around, she knew she'd need something to hold on to. She knew that Lisbon would be Jane's rock during this period (whether he liked it or not.) She and the mentalist were alike in several ways, most prominently, that neither of them liked having to ask for help. That was why they had partners like Castle and Lisbon, who understood their pride, and knew what they needed without having to be told.

Castle said something she didn't quite catch, buried in her own thoughts.

"What?" she asked, absent-mindedly.

"I said, do you want to have dinner with me tonight?" he repeated himself.

"Sure," she said, with no other plans, and always happy for a couple of hours to hang out with her partner. "We'll hit Remy's after work."

He swallowed. "I was thinking somewhere different."

"Cheapskate," she smiled. "OK, we can eat at the Old Haunt, but honestly, someone as rich as you really doesn't have an excuse for so many free meals."

The look on his face gave her the sense that this was again the wrong answer.

"What?" she asked again, flicking through more of the paper.

"Do you always make things this difficult when people are trying to ask you out?"

The newspaper fell to the floor, and pages went fluttering off in all directions.

"Well, hallelujah. I finally have your attention," said Castle, only half-joking.

"Please tell me you're joking," said Beckett.

"Oh, I'm deadly serious, Detective," said Castle, and he looked it too. "I think the time has come for me to finally go after what I want. And I think you know what that is."

She chose not to comment on that. "What brought this on?" she asked. Personally, she'd been perfectly fine with not talking about it, and pretending the hospital incident didn't happen.

"Perspective," he said. "If Jane can take down a serial killer, I can ask you out."

"And what if I say no?" she said. A shadow crossed his face, but he stood his ground.

"Then say it."

She wanted to. Oh Lord, how she wanted to. Stay friends. Keep things simple and uncomplicated. Insure herself against any further heartbreak. But she couldn't do it.

"Go ahead," he prompted. "Turn me down."

"I-"

"Yes?"

"I-can't," she admitted, shamefacedly. "I don't want to turn you down." She forced herself to look into his eyes. "I'd love to go out with you," she said.

It was the end of the world as she knew it. The beginning of the end. But she'd never seen Castle grin quite so big as he did right now.

"Let's make it tonight at eight, then," he said. "I'll pick you up. Wear something nice."

"Sure," she said. "Now let's get back to work."

"Yes of course, but go ahead and start without me. I just have something I need to do."

She watched in puzzlement as he walked steadily to the break area and closed the door behind him. After a minute, she distinctly heard what sounded like a whoop of joy, and a series of small thuds, which made her wonder if he was jumping up and down.

And then the door opened, and he was back, ignoring everyone's astonished stares.

"So, I like the wife for the murderer," he said, all business again. "What do you think?"

* * *

><p>Jane woke in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room, next to a very familiar person. According to the clock on the bedside table, it was almost noon. He and Lisbon had slept for over half a day.<p>

Well 'slept' may not have been the most accurate term. What had happened to them was closer to a full system shutdown. It was as if all the fatigue they'd put aside in order to catch Red John, came rushing back at once. They'd both simply crashed out.

A curious thing had happened. They'd started off lying on opposite sides of the bed but sometime during the night, they'd met in the middle and she was now curled up against his side with her head settled on his chest. He reached over now and put his arm around her, holding her to him, keeping her there.

She stirred, but he stroked her cheek soothingly, and she settled down again.

He wondered what she'd say when she finally did wake up and saw the position they were in. Though there hadn't really been anything sexual about it, sharing a bed with, and them waking up wrapped in the arms of a work colleague was a very intimate thing to do.

Her jersey had slipped over the course of the night and now exposed her left shoulder. As he gently tugged it back into place, she sighed.

He sighed too, as he thought back to last night, as he told her the real truth about what had happened with Red John. She'd taken the revelation fairly well, all things considered. He suspected that she was so relieved to have everyone alive and not arrested; she'd decided to just let it be. Of course, he and Cho would both get an earful later, but he'd always expected that.

The shrill ringing of his cellphone broke the silence. He fumbled for it, hoping to get it before it woke her. But it was too late; she was already mumbling and squirming around in his arms. He cursed the unknown caller as he finally snatched it up and saw an unfamiliar number on the caller ID.

"Patrick Jane," he grumbled into it.

"Hey man," said a male voice. "Richard Castle."

Jane forgot to be grumpy in the face of his surprise. "Hey Castle," he said. "What's up?"

"I just saw the paper," said Castle solemnly. "And I thought congratulations were in order."

Jane was a little taken aback by this. He'd been so caught up in his own head yesterday, it hadn't even occurred to him that the press would be all over this like wild dogs. But of course, he was an idiot. They'd just taken out a notorious serial killer; of course there'd be media attention.

Ugh. He hated journalists. And if he hated them, Lisbon absolutely _loathed_ them.

"Thanks," he said to Castle. "But it wasn't just me."

"I know that, but still, this was what you've been working for. How does it feel, now that you've done it?"

"Right now, I don't feel good or bad about it. It's still sinking in."

He felt Lisbon move her head again, and this time she also opened her eyes sleepily.

"Jane, what's the matter?" she asked. "Is it work?"

"No, it's OK," he said, pulling her in tighter. "Go back to sleep."

She obliged, and he stroked her hair in a steady rhythm as Castle spoke again.

"Sorry," he said with a sly chuckle. "Not interrupting anything, am I?"

"We were sleeping."

"We?"

"I'm at Lisbon's," he explained.

"Oh," said Castle. "Should I be extending further congratulations?" he asked.

"Not yet," said Jane. "But hopefully, soon."

"On a related topic," said Castle brightly. "Guess who's got a date with Kate Beckett tonight?"

"You actually asked her?"

"Yeah. It was time."

"Well congratulations yourself, Castle. And good luck."

"I'll need it."

Jane chuckled. "Good to hear from you, Castle. Keep in touch."

"Will do."

Jane hung up the phone and looked down to see Lisbon's green eyes, looking back at him.

"I thought you were going back to sleep," he said.

"How could I, with you babbling away on the phone like a teenage girl?" she asked. "Besides, I'm awake now. What time is it?"

"Just past twelve," he said.

"What?" she shrieked, sitting up in a hurry. "We should have been at work hours ago, why didn't you wake me?"

"Lisbon," he said, exasperatedly. "Bertram gave us all a few days off, don't you remember? We don't have to be back at work until Monday."

"Oh," she said, and to his delight reassumed her spot on his chest. "That's all right, then."

"Comfortable?" he asked her.

"Yep."

"Good," he said, and started playing with her hair again.

"Jane?" she asked, after a while. "What happens now?"

"Well, we're going to stay in bed for at least another hour," he said. "And then I'm going to get up and make you some breakfast, or I suppose, technically, lunch. You're going to go take a nice long shower, and then we'll spend the rest of the day catching you up on all your TV programs. I've seen your DVR, you've got stuff on there from six months ago."

"That sounds good," she said. "But it isn't what I meant."

"I know it isn't. But right now, I don't know what I'm doing next. I'll tell you as soon as I do, but I can assure you, it won't be anything that will take me away from you." He paused. "I think we have some unfinished business."

She smiled, and pressed a light kiss to his lips. "Ready when you are," she said.

* * *

><p>Richard Castle threw open the front door to the loft with such force, it rebounded off the wall and slammed shut again. With a growl of frustration, he opened it again and stormed through it, kicking it shut with a crash that made the walls shake.<p>

He walked over to pour himself a scotch, downed it in one, and then hurled the glass at the wall, where it exploded into a million pieces.

"Dad!" Alexis had appeared at the bottom of the stairs, in her pyjamas, looking horrified. "What is going on?"

"Hey, pumpkin," he said, would-be-casually. "It's late. Why aren't you asleep?"

"I was," she said. "I came down here because I thought an elephant had escaped from the zoo and was stampeding around our apartment. But it's just you."

"Yes," he agreed. "It's just me."

"So," she said nervously. "How was your date with Detective Beckett?"

"Fine," he spat. "Just fine."

"This is not 'fine,'" said Alexis, crossing her arms defiantly, just like her mother used to do whenever they fought.

He gazed at her. His daughter. His baby. The one female in his life that had never let him down, or ripped his heart to shreds, and then stamped on it in six-inch heels. He said nothing, but simply opened his arms to her. She ran into them, and he hugged her tightly to him.

"Daddy, what happened?" she asked.

Daddy. She only ever called him that anymore when one or both of them were really, really upset. And soon, she'd be off to college, leaving him. His baby girl was going to be all grown up and he was going to be all alone.

They went over to the couch and sat down, and he told her the whole miserable story.

Things had started off so well. He'd arrived at Beckett's door, flowers in hand at eight sharp. He'd had to practically pick his jaw off the floor when she answered it, in a sleek black dress that clung to her and showed off her long legs. He'd taken her arm and escorted her downstairs to where he'd parked his Ferrari (because he didn't care what she said, he knew she liked it) and they set off.

They'd arrived at the New York branch of the restaurant they'd been to in Sacramento within twenty minutes. She'd gasped when they walked inside to find all the lights off, candles everywhere, and a single table set for two, near the fireplace.

He pulled the chair out for her and then the waiter appeared with the wine selection. Once they'd made a choice, he whisked off to get it for them, leaving them alone.

That was when things had started to go wrong.

Instead of being flattered or pleased that he'd booked the whole restaurant just for them, Beckett had accused him of trying to buy her, and that she didn't care how much cash he flashed, it wasn't going to work. She said he was being ridiculous and over-the-top, and entitled people like him were the reason she hated Manhattan. She'd said all this is a joking way, but he knew there had been truth behind it, and it made him mad. He wasn't trying to buy her. All he'd ever wanted was to treat her like she deserved to be treated, and to make this night special.

Thankfully, the wine had arrived at that moment, and the presence of the waiter pouring it out for them allowed him time to bite back the angry reply that had been forming on his lips. She always was uncomfortable with showy things, he reasoned. Her reaction should not have come as so much of a shock.

They got all the way through their first glasses of wine, and the soup, without further incident. Castle was just starting to feel fully relaxed again, when she brought up the case they'd been working on. They chatted about it for a few minutes, until Castle felt that he would like to guide the conversation away from work for once. This was a date, not a working dinner. He wanted to find out more about _her._

She agreed, but without work as a sounding board, the conversation tended to taper off at regular intervals, leaving them both to grope around for a topic they'd not yet discussed. He wanted to punch something in frustration. Why was this so difficult? This was Beckett, his best friend, who he could talk to about anything, for hours on end. The one who gave him tips on dealing with Alexis, etiquette advice, the occasional scathing comment on his wardrobe, hairstyle, intelligence quotient, etc. They _always_ had something to talk about.

After a few more minutes of awkward small talk, the main course arrived and they had an excuse to be silent. But even eating their meal together felt different. They didn't tease each other, or steal bites from each other's plates, or even look at each other. But worse was still to come.

Between the main course and dessert, he asked her if she had any other family besides her dad. Naturally, this conversation segued into a conversation about her mother, and Castle, who really didn't want to make the tone of discussion any more depressing that it already was, waited for her to finish, and then asked as gently as he could, if she'd prefer to talk about something else.

And all hell broke loose.

She asked him if he thought her mother was something that she could just dismiss, and he said of course not, but talking about her made her sad, and it made him sad to see it. To which she replied she deserved to be sad, because it had been thirteen years and she still hadn't caught the killer yet, and too bad for him if he didn't like it, because it was all his fault the case had been reopened. He'd then told her to stop being ridiculous, and that her mother would never have wanted her to live her life this way. To which she'd angrily snapped what would he know anyway, he'd never met her mother. To which he'd snapped back that anyone with half a brain would know no mother would want her child to suffer.

She'd gotten to her feet then, and informed him that nobody was making him stay, and that if he didn't want to face reality for what it was, to just _GO_ back to his novel-writing fantasyland, and leave her alone.

To which he flatly refused.

At which point, she'd picked up her purse, brushed aside the waiter who had just brought them the seven-layer mudcake, and left the table.

"… and then she stormed out," he told Alexis, dully. "I called after her but she didn't even look back. And by the time I got outside, she was gone."

"I'm so sorry, Dad," said his daughter, laying her head on his shoulder. "I know how much this night meant to you."

"It's not just tonight, pumpkin," he said dejectedly. "I don't think I'll ever see her again."

Alexis hesitated. "Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing," she said.

"What?" he asked, surprised.

"You have to stop chasing her, Dad," said Alexis seriously. "Every time something like this happens, it comes that much closer to killing you. And I can't stand to watch it anymore."

"But-" he protested.

"No buts," she said firmly, once again as if she were the parent and he the child. "You don't deserve to be treated this way, especially when your only crime was falling in love with her."

"If I could just make-"

"I mean it, Dad," she said. "You've done enough. You've put yourself out there too many times. Now it's her turn."

* * *

><p>Beckett arrived at Castle's loft, nearly two hours after storming out of the restaurant. She knew that she'd screwed up. Castle had been trying to do something nice for her, and all she'd done was throw it back in his face. And tonight had the makings of being the best date she'd ever had, if only she had just shut the hell up.<p>

Her only defence was her discomfort with the way Castle flaunted his wealth, but she deeply regretted her accusation of him trying to buy her affection. He would never do such a thing. And now she had time to look back on it more calmly, she was able to appreciate that talk about her mother was not the best date conversation.

And besides, he hadn't told her they had to stop talking about, had he? He'd simply asked if she wanted to talk about something else, giving her an escape route, and she'd chosen to interpret it as a personal affront. And she didn't even want to think about her behaviour for the rest of the night; it was too humiliating.

She had to apologize. She knew it. And she'd been sitting in the lobby for nearly twenty minutes trying to work up the guts.

She knocked on the door. After a short wait, it swung open to reveal Alexis, who frowned when she realised who the visitor was.

"You've got some nerve turning up here," said Alexis, aggressively, surveying Beckett with dislike.

"Your father told you what happened, then?" asked Beckett, unnecessarily, unnerved by this sudden cold shoulder from Alexis, who she'd always got on fairly well with in the past. But she understood why. Hell, if she were in the teen's position right now, she'd be doing exactly the same thing.

"Yes he did," Alexis confirmed. "Every detail."

"Can I see him?"

"Absolutely not," said Alexis, firmly. "Not after the way you treated him tonight."

"Alexis, I want to apologize."

"Oh, of course. You have to repair enough of the damage you caused so he'll come in tomorrow and help you with your cases and bring you coffee, and wait on you hand and foot," sneered Alexis.

"I never asked him to do any of that," said Beckett, defensively.

"Just like you never asked him to fall in love with you either. But he still did. And you know it."

She couldn't deny this.

"Who's at the door, sweetheart?" Castle's voice rang out from inside.

"It's _her,_" Alexis called back, venomously.

"Oh," Castle sounded unsurprised, but not exactly pleased. "What does she want?"

"Castle, I need to talk to you," Beckett called out. "Let me in."

A long pause.

"Fine," he said. "It's OK, baby," he added to Alexis, who had turned around to give him an 'are you sure about this?' look.

Beckett stepped forward, expecting Alexis to move aside and let her pass but the teen stood her ground.

"Oh, no you don't," she said.

"But your father-"

"Dad doesn't know what he wants right now. But I know he loves you way too much to tell you what I'm about to say, and you need to hear it."

"And what's that?" asked Beckett.

"You have to choose," said Alexis. "Right now. Before I let you into this apartment you have to decide whether you're in or you're out. And then, you go straight up to him and tell him so."

"Alexis, it's complicated," protested Beckett.

"I don't care," she said. "You are not going to string him along like this any longer. He deserves better. And if you don't want to be with him, you need to tell him now and give him a chance to get over you. You owe him that."

Not for the first time, Alexis seemed far worldlier then her seventeen years as she stared Beckett down.

"Alexis, you can't make me make a decision now," said Beckett. "You don't understand. I need more time."

"You've had three years," Alexis snapped. "That's more than enough time. And this 'will I, won't I' trip you've been on for the past three years ends tonight."

She folded her arms, impatiently.

"What's it to be, Beckett?" she said.

* * *

><p>Jane poked his head into Lisbon's office, blinking in the afternoon light that streamed in through the window. Six months after the death of Red John, things had gone pretty much back to normal. Jane had taken three weeks off after the fact, but he and Lisbon had still seen each other almost every day.<p>

As far as their relationship went, things were still up in the air. But neither had dated anybody since, and Lisbon felt it was just a matter of when.

"Hey Lisbon," he greeted her. "Whatcha doing?"

"Drafting a response to a complaint," she grunted.

"About what?" he asked.

"I'll give you a hint," she said. "It involves you, a zebra, and a quarter million dollar security system."

"Oh, yes." said Jane off-handedly. "That was a good one."

"Yeah, brilliant," she said, sarcastically. "Though it turns out Ms Cartwright's lawyer is failing to see the humour in it."

"Meh. Lawyers. They don't have a sense of humour about anything. So you're not busy then?" he asked.

For the first time, she looked up from the computer. "Something tells me this will go faster if I just ask you what you want," she said.

"Want to take a drive with me?" he asked.

"In that death trap you call a car? Pass."

"Please?"

"Jane, I've got things to do…"

"Teresa."

Her protests stopped at the use of her given name, the first time he had ever done so.

"Please come with me," he repeated. "It's important."

Ten minutes later they were in his car. Jane had refused to say where they were going, only that she would understand when they got there. She was having horrible ideas about some grandiose plan or if this was some trick to get her out of the office for a while.

After a couple of miles, Jane made a turn up a sweeping drive, and through some iron gates. And then she saw the gravestones. She knew he'd heard her sharp intake of breath as his hands tightened on the wheel for a moment.

"Jane, are you sure about this?" she asked as he pulled the car to a stop.

"Yes," he said, in the same determined tone he used to use when he talked about Red John.

"You don't have to do this."

"Yes, I do."

He got out of the car, walked around to her side and opened the door for her. He held out his hand, and she took it.

* * *

><p>It was probably one of the most surreal moments of Patrick Jane's life, as he led Lisbon across the lawn to where his wife and daughter lay. Finally, his past and his present were going to cross over, the three women he cared about the most, in the same place, at the same time. Well, more or less.<p>

Lisbon dropped his hand as they approached and hung back a few steps to let him go on his own, but he shook his head and took her hand back.

"It's OK."

She nodded, and came to stand next to him.

"Angela and Charlotte," she read. "You've never called them by their names before. I always wondered what they were."

He nodded.

"Is this the first time you've been here?" Lisbon asked him.

"No," he said. "I've been coming here every week for almost a year now."

She gasped. "So this is where you've been disappearing to! I'm so sorry Jane, I never even considered this, I always thought you were…" she trailed off.

"Up to something," he finished for her. "Don't feel bad, my dear. Your suspicion is perfectly understandable."

She smiled a little. "So, why did you bring me here?" she asked.

"There's something I want you to see."

She looked around. "What?" she asked.

He chuckled. "Not there," he said, and held up his left hand. "Here."

Her jaw dropped as he tugged his wedding ring off his finger.

"Jane," she said, breathlessly, "Patrick…"

From his pocket, he produced an envelope, with the word 'Angela' written on the front. He placed the ring inside it, sealed it, and then set it at the foot of the tombstone.

"Figured it was time to give it back," he said, hearing a slight quaver in his voice. Lisbon stopped gaping and hugged him.

"It's OK," she said. "It's OK."

He let her hold him for a moment, before reaching into his pocket again for another piece of paper, which he handed to her. She unfolded it and her brow furrowed in confusion.

"It's the title deed for my place in Malibu," he said. "I'm selling it."

"You're what?" she said, mouth dropping again.

"Stop gaping dear, it's unbecoming of you," said Jane.

"Why are you doing all this?" she asked him. "And why now?"

"I've finally come to terms with my past," said Jane. "And I thank you sincerely for letting me do that. But now I'm ready to start living my life again. And I'd like it to include you, if that's what you want."

She swallowed.

"I can't promise that I'll never think of them again," he said. "And there's still going to be days when you're going to have to pick me up when it all comes back, but I know how I feel about you isn't going to change. So what do you say?"

There was a brief pause.

"Yes," she said. "I say yes."

His face broke into a grin. He wanted to pick her up, twirl her around, kiss her, scream out the news to the world. But not here, and not now. She seemed to be thinking the same thing, as she smiled back at him.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked, gently.

"Yeah."

"Did you want to say something to them?" asked Lisbon. "I can go wait by the car."

"Dead people can't hear, Lisbon," he said. "And besides, they know."

He put his arm around her, and they walked off together. But he couldn't resist looking over his shoulder once or twice to look at the two white stones on the hillside.

* * *

><p>"Mail." The middle-aged man, who pushed the mail trolley, paused just inside the bullpen. "Where's Agent Lisbon?"<p>

"Gone for coffee," sad Jane, from the couch. "I'll take it."

This would be an excellent chance to go through and take out all the nasty complaints before she had a chance to see them. She couldn't get mad about stuff she didn't know about, after all. And in the meantime, he could write up some highly entertaining replies, much better than her usual insincere apologies and explanations.

"Whatever," said the man, removing a handful of envelopes from the trolley and handing them to Jane. "And tell that woman not to lock her door if she still wants to receive mail."

"Don't talk about Lisbon like that," said Jane, sharply.

"And what are you going to do about it, pretty boy?" the mail guy snapped.

"Is there a problem here?" broke in a new voice. Lisbon had returned, and glared at the mailman.

Mail Guy grunted. "No problem, Agent Lisbon," he said, and shuffled off.

"Do you know how incredibly sexy it is when you stare people down like that?" asked Jane, conversationally.

"Shut up!" she said. "Whatever he said to you, you probably deserved it. And give me those!" She snatched the mail from his hand.

"I was defending your honour," said Jane, sulkily. "People used to appreciate it."

"Probably the same kind of people who wear three-piece suits and quote Shakespeare like he's their personal friend," said Lisbon, waspishly.

"So why do I go out with you again?" he asked.

"Because I have handcuffs, and know many, _many_ ways to use them," she said, wickedly.

"Touché. Hey what's that?" he asked, pointing at a cream-coloured envelope. "Doesn't look like a complaint."

She opened it, and a huge smile crossed her face. "That's because it isn't. Look." She tossed him the letter.

_You are cordially invited to the wedding of_

_Richard Alexander Rodgers (aka Richard Edgar Castle)_

_Katherine Johanna Beckett_

_To be held at The Plaza Hotel, New York City on August 17th at 6:00pm_

_RSVP: May 24th_

"Better go tell Bertram," said Jane, when he'd finished reading it. "We're going to need to take some annual leave."

* * *

><p><strong>I know I said this would be the last chapter, but I'm thinking of extending to one more, to write the wedding. Will you guys read it, if I do? If not, I hope you enjoyed this story and I had a blast writing it. Thanks for reading! <strong>


	15. For Better Or For Worse

**This chapter may well be the fluffiest thing I have ever written. I usually tend to err on the side of angst when I write. That being said, I quite enjoyed the change of pace.**

**If you value realism in your fanfic (if that's even possible) I would suggest you turn back now. However, if you don't mind ridiculous fluff, please read on.**

**Pairings and ratings are the same as always.**

* * *

><p>Kate Beckett always thought she knew what it meant to be stressed out. She had a demanding job, frequent brushes with death, and thanks to Nikki Heat, had occasional bursts of minor fame (usually coinciding with the releases of books.) But all of this looked like a cakewalk when she started planning a wedding.<p>

Suddenly her limited spare time was being eaten up by cake tastings, appointments with florists, interviews with caterers and endless meetings with her wedding planner, usually to get her approval on some insignificant detail she really couldn't care less about. Only last week, she'd been roped into a twenty minute discussion on napkin colours, which when she looked at them, all seemed to be precisely the same shade of white.

She'd never imagined herself having a huge, grand wedding with all the trimmings. In fact, on the rare occasion she'd thought about it as a child, she'd seen a small church, and no more than thirty guests.

Of course, that was before she'd become engaged to Richard Castle, best-selling author and New York social royalty.

"This is ridiculous!" she burst out angrily, scanning the three hundred names that made up the extensive guest list. "We don't even know half of these people. And we're going to be giving them an open bar and silver service food."

"I know," said Castle, coming up behind her and squeezing her shoulder. "I told Paula there were too many people. She said she'd cut it down."

"Yeah, right," she said. "Sometimes I really dislike your agent."

"Oh, me too," he said, comfortably. "She's an awful person. But I can't fire her because she's too damn good at her job."

She sighed. "I guess."

Castle took a seat next to her and took her hands in his. "Kate," he said quietly. "Look at me."

She did so, meeting his bright blue eyes, and suddenly feeling a little calmer. Her fiancé had been the voice of reason in the whole wedding planning madness, which made sense, as he'd already done it twice before. When he looked at her like this, she remembered why she'd fallen for him in the first place.

"This is _our_ day," he said. "Not Paula's. We call the shots here, not her. And I want you to have the wedding you always dreamed of."

"Paula's right, though," said Beckett. "It will be really good for you if we do the Plaza wedding."

The moment she'd heard they were engaged, Paula had insisted that they make the wedding as upmarket and extravagant as possible. _"The best-selling author marries his muse?"_ she'd said. _"You can't buy publicity like this."_

Castle brushed some hair out of her face, and smiled. "The hell with her," he said. "I don't care if we have our wedding at the Plaza, or the park, or in a Justice of the Peace, in some back street nobody's ever heard of. You're going to be my wife. That's all I care about."

She leaned forward and kissed him softly, wrapping her arms around his neck. He grinned as they drew apart.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"I can't believe this is happening," she said. "We're actually doing this."

He went suddenly pale. "You're not getting cold feet on me, are you?" he said.

"You tell me," she said, running her bare foot up and down his leg.

"Feel pretty good to me," he said, with a smile.

She pulled her foot away. "Go take your shower, preferably a cold one," she said. "We have to be at work in an hour."

"Tease," he complained, but rose from his chair, and wandered off in the direction of the stairs. She heard his heavy footfalls thudding up each step, and then voices floating down from the landing.

"Morning, sweetie," she heard Castle say, obviously to Alexis. "What are you up to today?"

"Meeting some friends for shopping," she replied.

"And who exactly will be bankrolling this little shopping expedition?" asked Castle, suspiciously.

"Me!" said Alexis, incredulously. "Once you give me my allowance, of course."

Castle sighed, but Beckett could just see him pulling out his wallet. He really was such a giant pushover where his daughter was concerned.

"You know, most kids have to work for their allowance," he said. "Do chores and such."

"Hey, I help with the cooking all the time! And not only is parenting you a full-time job, I'll have you know the hours _suck_."

They both chuckled. "Have a good day," Castle said, and then Beckett heard footsteps on the stairs again. Alexis appeared, fully dressed and clutching her purse.

"Morning," Beckett greeted her.

"Morning," she replied, a little stiffly.

Ever since their unpleasant conversation at the front door on the night of the disastrous first date, things were still a little prickly between Beckett and Alexis. Though Alexis had dispensed with the open hostility she'd dished out so efficiently that night, there was still a little lingering frostiness in the way she spoke to Beckett, particularly when Castle wasn't around.

Kate had the feeling that Alexis was waiting for the penny to drop and was clearly fearful that she would once again have to put her father back together when Beckett cut and run.

Kate couldn't blame her for feeling this way; her track record in this area wasn't exactly glowing, but she very much hoped that after the wedding, they could move past this. She'd always liked Alexis, been impressed by her intelligence and maturity and appreciated her sarcastic wit, so reminiscent of her father. And in her opinion, Castle had won the teenager lottery; Alexis' minor indiscretions were as nothing to the hell she'd put her parents through in her high school years.

Alexis had put up a good show of happiness when they had told her of their engagement, throwing her arms enthusiastically around her father, and even consenting to give Beckett a friendly, albeit very quick, hug. And she'd readily agreed to be a bridesmaid when Kate had asked. But, as the wedding day drew nearer, Beckett could feel Alexis' gaze on her when she thought she wasn't looking, as if half-expecting her to rip off her ring, and bolt.

She knew it was up to her to convince Alexis that she wasn't going anywhere. That she and Castle were through playing cat-and-mouse, and ready to stop running. The hard part was over. She'd found her 'one and done.'

"Are you and Dad working a case right now?" Alexis asked.

"Yes, but I think we've almost cracked it," said Beckett. "I think we'll close it today."

"Should I leave some dinner out for you guys?" asked Alexis, politely.

"No, we'll grab something on the way home. Thanks."

Alexis glanced at her phone. "Gotta go," she said. "I'll be late."

"Alexis!" Beckett called after her, and she turned. "Are you ever going to be able to trust me?"

The young girl eyed her sternly. "I don't forgive as easily as my dad does, Beckett," she said. She paused, and the tiniest hint of a smile played at her lips. "But you're getting there."

Beckett nodded, understanding, and then Alexis left.

As the door closed behind her, there came the telltale crash, crash, crash of someone hurrying down the stairs. She wasn't the slightest bit surprised to see her fiancé standing there, dressed in a sharp new suit she hadn't seen before, with that insufferable grin on his face.

"I'm ready!" he announced.

"What do you want, a standing ovation?" she asked.

"I was thinking more along the lines of a musical fanfare," he said. "With trumpets blaring and cymbals crashing. Wouldn't that be awesome?"

"You're an idiot," she said, picking her keys and bag.

He ignored this. "I've been thinking," he said. "And I think I know who killed Emma Svensson."

"Who?" she asked.

"Ninjas," he said seriously. "Bad-ass, military trained ones."

"Oh, for Pete's sake."

He proceeded to inform her of all his supposed evidence that their inner-city woman had met her end at the hands of deadly ninjas; trained to kill, and then disappear into the gathering darkness, leaving no trace they were ever there.

"Seriously," she said, shaking her head. "Where do you come up with this crap?"

"I'm a writer, it's what I do."

* * *

><p>The bright, sunny morning belied Jane's grim mood, as he stood in the kitchen, munching half-heartedly on an apple. He was not, strictly speaking, hungry, but he knew that to get through what loomed in front of him today, he was going to need fuel.<p>

There was movement in the hall, and he glanced around to see Lisbon enter the kitchen, apparently having just woken up. Despite his sour mood, he still managed to smile.

"I have to say," he said. "That shirt never looked so good."

She smirked as she rolled back the sleeves of the blue dress shirt she was wearing, once his, but that had since been claimed by her as sleepwear, in lieu of the jersey. He'd always liked her in her jersey, but in his opinion, she looked even better in his shirt.

Or maybe he just liked the way wearing his clothes was almost the equivalent of having a 'Property of Patrick Jane' sign floating above her head.

Not that he'd ever, ever say that to her. He valued his life too much.

"Oh yeah," she agreed. "I totally wear this better than you."

He tended to agree, especially considered that she hadn't buttoned it up all the way, and that it hit her thigh in just the right place, not too high, and not too low.

"Sadly, yes," he said, and she walked over to where he stood, and kissed his cheek.

"What are you doing up so early anyway?" she asked him, grabbing the apple from his hand and taking a bite of it.

"Got some things to do," he said.

"Like what?" she asked, somewhat thickly, mouth full of apple.

"Oh, nothing really," he said, airily. "This and that."

"Well thanks for that explanation," she said, irritably, and swallowed. "Is it really that important? It's Saturday. We don't have work today. Are you sure you don't want to come back to bed?"

She smiled her impish little smile, as she handed the apple back to him. How he loved that smile, just like he loved the way she looked in his shirt, and the way her hair always looked so messy when she first got up in the morning.

And yes, he really did want to go back to bed with her. And stay there.

"Tempting though that is, my darling," he said, with a smile of his own, "I have to step out for a little while. I'll be back in an hour or two."

She stood on tiptoe and put her arms around his neck, hugging him. She smelled like apples and cinnamon, and the vanilla body wash she'd been using lately.

"Is something going on?" she asked him, looking suspiciously into his eyes. "You're keeping secrets from me."

"Yes, I am," he admitted. "But they're not bad secrets."

"Then, are they good secrets?"

"Not really," he said.

She ran the fingers of one hand through his curls a few times, absent-mindedly.

"I thought we agreed that we weren't going to keep secrets from each other anymore," she said, in a slightly accusatory tone.

"We did," he said, sincerely. "And I stand by that. I promise, you'll know in time. Just not yet. You'll need to trust me…you do trust me, right?"

"Jury's still out."

He chuckled, leaned forwards and captured her lips in a soft kiss. As it deepened, his hands slipped past the hem of the shirt, to caress her soft, warm skin. Taking this as encouragement, she began to unbutton the front of his vest, and he knew where this was heading. The second she got her hands on him, all would be lost.

"Sweetheart…"

He broke off their kiss and gently took her hands in his own, stopping her ministrations. Undeterred, she pressed herself against him all the more, and began to trace his jawline with her lips.

"Dear God, woman," he groaned. "You're killing me."

Already, he could feel himself beginning to succumb.

"You," he said, as she started to nip lightly at his lips, "Are not….Playing…Fair."

"Are you sure you need to go out right now?" she asked.

"It really is important," he said, trying to remember how to think straight. "Have a little mercy."

"Fine," she said, grumpily, acquiescing at last.

"I just need to take care of this one thing," he said. "Then I'm all yours, all day." He pecked her quickly on her lips. He knew why she was so upset. The weekdays were so busy with work that weekends were supposed to be their time. To be a couple, and for him to shower her with all the affection she wouldn't allow at the office.

He was breaking tradition. Most weekends, they didn't leave the house. It was hard work fitting a week's worth of couple time into only two short days. But they made the most of the limited time. The precious forty-eight hours were usually split between watching movies, and alternating between bickering and making love.

Last weekend, in fact, he didn't recall them leaving the bedroom, except for those three times in the shower. And once on the couch.

Mysteriously, they hadn't had a single argument over that period.

"OK," she said finally. "But hurry back."

"I will," he said. "Oh, and don't bother about getting dressed. Stay exactly as you are."

She let go of his hands.

"It's OK, you know," she said. "You don't have to hide it from me."

He froze. "Where exactly do you think I'm going?"

"To visit them," she said, in a tone that told him quite clearly whom she meant by 'them.' "I understand," she continued. 'Don't feel ashamed of it."

He didn't bother denying it.

'When did you figure it out?" he asked.

"The last time you went, two weeks ago."

He kissed her again, long and passionately, and she kissed him back, and when they finally drew away, words spilled from his mouth like a tidal wave had just been unleashed. Words he'd wanted to say forever, but just hadn't been able to.

"I love you."

Her eyes widened. "Look, I know you're upset about your big secret being blown, but that's no reason to start throwing that word around just to cover up for it."

He peered at her for a moment.

"You don't believe me, do you?" he asked, matter-of-factly.

She crossed her arms. "So?"

"Do you really think I'd say something like that to you if I didn't mean it?"

"Well, no," she said, blushing. "But it's just that," she paused, casting around for words. "It doesn't make any sense. We don't make sense. In any way. As friends, or partners or anything. And we never have. Doesn't that bother you?"

He considered this for a moment. "Why does it have to make sense?" he asked. "Why can't we just let it be what it is?"

"I never did anything like this before," she said. "I've never thought about anything less in my life, then when I decided to be with you."

"Then why did you?"

"It felt right. But I don't understand why." She sounded frustrated, and he guessed she'd been thinking about this for a while. "You're you. You're insufferable and a pain in the ass, and there used to be days when I seriously considered killing you, and to hell with the repercussions." He chuckled. "And now, here we are."

"You're over-thinking this," he told her, gently. "I love you. That's all."

"And I love you," she admitted, quietly. "Even though I shouldn't."

"Some things aren't meant to make sense, Teresa," he said. "They just work."

They kissed once more.

"You know something?" said Lisbon. "I started spending an extra ten minutes in front of the mirror after you joined the CBI."

He didn't whether to be surprised at this uncharacteristic admission of vanity from Lisbon, or intrigued that she had indeed gone to extra lengths, apparently to impress him.

"Do _you_ want to know something?" he asked. "So did I."

He'd always known his hair and smile were among his best assets, and when he'd come home from his first day at CBI, it had suddenly become a matter of vital importance to play these things up for all they were worth, for the benefit of the feisty little brunette who was now his partner.

She laughed out loud.

"I knew your hair didn't get so perfect on it's own," she said. "You liar."

"Made you notice though," he said. "So my plan worked."

"Yeah," she agreed, sarcastically. "Because you're normally so easy to ignore."

He smiled, kissed her forehead, and disentangled himself. "See you later," he said.

"Say hi to them for me," she said, turning around to make coffee.

"Will do."

As he got into the car, he saw the curtain flutter. She appeared from behind it, gave a small wave, and disappeared again.

It had taken a while to get used to the domesticity, the normality of it all. Going to work, and coming back to the woman he loved at the end of the day instead of an empty apartment and bad memories.

* * *

><p>Their place was small, and modest, but it was theirs. And that was all that really mattered.<p>

A sharp slap echoed around the room. Remy's Diner was almost empty, save for two patrons who sat together in the corner booth.

"I've told you before, Castle. You want fries, order your own!"

"But I only want a few!" he whined. "And anyway, we're getting married. We're supposed to share things!"

"No-one said anything about sharing my food."

"Keep putting fries away like that, and you might not fit into your dress," he said, jokingly.

Her head snapped up and she glared at him. He winced.

"Oh, I'm going to pay for that one, aren't I?" he said, nervously.

"Yes you are. Dearly."

He believed her. Sometimes he thought it would be more beneficial if he just didn't speak at all. He'd certainly get into far less trouble. But then again, even though she complained about his big mouth, he knew his sense of humour and command of the English language had been a big part of winning her over. It had its compensations.

She returned to her meal, and he watched her. For three years, with every fibre of his being, he had loved this woman. How many times had they sat at this very table with him captivated by her every move, wondering if he'd ever pluck up the courage to tell her how he felt? Fearing the day she'd come to him and tell him she was in love, with somebody else.

Never had that fear been more potent then when she'd been with Josh. Perfect job, perfect looks, perfect everything, but in the end, not perfect for her.

For some reason, she'd picked the twice-divorced novelist, who only worked when he felt like it, and more often then not, tended to let his crazy ideas run away with him.

Every day, he half-expected it all to fall down around him. He had a career he loved, an amazing daughter, a great mom, and life-long friends at the precinct, and in a few months, he was going to marry the most wonderful woman on the planet. He'd been hedging his bets ever since, doubling his charity contributions in an effect to rack up some extra good karma. It just didn't seem fair that he should be so lucky.

Though that was not to say it had been easy. Anyone who knew them could attest to the fact that he and Beckett had been a very slow work in progress indeed.

And that night after their date from hell, it had almost come undone.

He'd sat listlessly on the couch listening to Alexis deny Beckett entrance to the apartment like a bouncer outside a nightclub. He'd never heard his baby girl so angry, tearing strips off Beckett with a ruthless satisfaction.

But, as always, Alexis was right. He couldn't do this anymore. It had to stop. So he allowed her to let Beckett in. After a while, they both walked over to where he sat, and took seats, Beckett in a chair across from him, and Alexis protectively at his side.

He'd gently shooed his daughter back to her room; partly because she had school in the morning, and partly because he couldn't risk her seeing what might happen if things went badly. It wasn't good for daughters to see their fathers cry. Alexis kissed him on the cheek, threw a scathing look at Beckett, and then departed.

He and Beckett sat in silence, as Alexis' footsteps died away. He wondered what she'd been doing for the last two hours. She hadn't changed out of her black dress, but her hair had begun to slip from the elegant knot it had been in on top of her head. She was so beautiful, but he didn't want to look at her. He wanted to stay angry. She'd hurt him, and he wanted her to know that.

He maintained their uneasy silence, determined not to be the one to break it.

After about thirty seconds, she did.

"Castle, are you going to look at me?"

"Still deciding."

"Please look at me." She sounded sad, ashamed, pleading. He felt his heart give a violent twist. Normally this would be his cue to beg her to tell him what was wrong, do anything in his power to make her feel better. Not tonight.

"Why?"

"So I can say what I came to say."

He turned his head toward her. "Go on," he said, his voice achieving the exact bite of coolness he'd been aiming for, all the while restraining himself from throwing his arms around her.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm sorry about what happened tonight."

"OK."

"OK?" she repeated, in surprise.

"OK."

She looked confused. "So, we're OK then?" she confirmed.

"Sure. See you at work." He gestured to the door. "Go ahead and see yourself out."

"Castle…"

"I've got a chapter to finish."

"We have to talk about this."

"No we don't." He smiled. "How does it feel to be the one getting shut out for once?" he asked.

She took a deep breath. "Look, I understand why you're upset-"

"I really don't think you do," he said. "This isn't just about tonight. This is about every damn time we have these conversations. It's always the same thing from you. 'I'm not ready.' 'I need more time.' But the thing is, this isn't all about _you_."

That had felt good to say. The small, selfish part of him inside was finally given voice.

"All the time, I focus on what you want, and do you even care about what I want?"

"Of course I care," she said. "It's just that-"

"Do you have any idea of the torture you have put me through over the past three years?" he asked. "Do you have even the smallest comprehension of the pain and misery you've inflicted on me?"

She rose from her seat, angrily. "Castle that's not fair," she said.

"You knew how I felt about you," he went on. "But you didn't even have the decency to reject me to my face. You just ignored it, and kept moving right along with your life like it wasn't even happening."

The anger in her face died, to be replaced by shame.

"I know," she said. "I did all those things and more. I guess I just thought it would be easier not to deal with it; I never imagined it would backfire like this. And please believe that the last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you."

"I believe you," he said. "But it doesn't change anything."

A prickly silence fell between them.

"So, what now?" she asked.

"You know where I stand," he said. "Your move."

Part of him felt bad for forcing her into a decision, but the bigger part of him was relieved that he was finally going to get an answer.

She was quiet for a long time. He didn't realise that his hands were clenched inside his pockets until a few minutes had passed. The only sound was the crackling of the electric fire in the background. Presently, she came over to sit beside him. He felt her leg brush against his, and her silky hair shone in the glow of the faux firelight.

"I've been selfish," she said. "You're right, and Alexis is right."

"What did she say to you?" he asked, suddenly curious, but she merely shook her head.

"Doesn't matter." She laid a cautious hand on his arm. "Can we try again?" she asked. "The whole going-on-a-date thing?"

"Are you serious?" he asked, not daring to believe his ears.

"I am," she said. "But maybe we could take it down a notch and make it a little less, I don't know, Castle-esque."

"I went too big," he said, wanting to beat himself over the head for his stupidity. Now that he thought about it, the whole idea had been downright dumb. She hated being made a fuss of.

"A little," she agreed. "But don't get me wrong. Nobody has ever gone to that much trouble for me. But I think I'd feel more comfortable if we went a little more low-key."

"So, just to clarify, this is a yes. You want to give this a shot." Castle had learned from the night's events. He wanted to be sure beyond a shadow of a doubt before he allowed himself to process what he was hearing.

"This is a yes," she said, with a smile, which after a minute, he returned. "And Castle?" she went on. "Don't let this stop you from the grand gestures. The way you've always gone to so much trouble for me, it's something I've always loved about you."

The 'L' word jarred in his brain. Had he misheard? Was it simply a product of his imagination? But something about the way she smiled made it clear that she had indeed said what he'd thought she'd said.

He wanted to scoop her up and carry her off to the bedroom right that very instant, or at the very least kiss her until neither of them could breathe anymore. Unfortunately, neither of those things fell into the category of 'taking it slow.'

He'd waited so long for this, for her. He could wait a little longer.

"And what else?" he asked. "Other than the fact that I'm so damn loveable."

She rolled her eyes. "You'll never know." And then she smiled that mysterious, sexy smile.

Strike the previous thought. He _couldn't_ wait much longer. The desire was eating him alive. But he forced himself to play it cool.

"Shall we start with dinner tomorrow night at Remy's?" he offered.

And so, they had begun, slow and steady. First, the dinner at Remy's, and then a movie the following week at the Angelika. One afternoon, they went and had coffee at a café together instead of him bringing it to her. And each time, they talked, they laughed, they got to know each other better. (It turned out that despite three years of experience, he was still only on the outer layers of the Beckett onion.) It was a series of small, gradual changes to their usual routine, and giving themselves the time to readjust helped them find their rhythm as a couple.

It was around their fourth date, when he took her to one of his favourite places in the city, the Natural History Museum, that their colleagues had started to notice.

Predictably, Ryan and Esposito were the first to call them out.

He and Beckett were standing by the whiteboard one case, theorizing together as usual, while the two guys watched. He still wasn't sure what it was about that particular day that had caused Esposito to look suspiciously from one to the other, turn to Ryan, and say:

"Bro, you owe me a hundred bucks."

His partner sighed. "Thanks a lot, you guys," he said, irritably. "You couldn't have held off for one more month? Jenny and I are trying to remodel the kitchen."

"What on Earth are you two on about?" asked Beckett. Castle had an inkling, but he wasn't fool enough to admit to prior knowledge of being the subject of office betting for the past two years.

Esposito let out a loud whistle, and proceedings around the 12th came to a sudden halt.

"People!" he shouted as all the other cops turned to look at him. "It's finally happened. What we've all been waiting for."

Castle felt fifty pairs of eyes turn to fix on he and Beckett instead. He smirked, as the first signs of comprehension started to dawn on her face.

"It seems Castle and Beckett have finally got their act together," Esposito announced to the room.

A flurry of activity ensued. Some people breathed sighs of relief; others turned to their neighbours and demanded they pay up on various sums of money ranging from 50 to several hundred dollars. Two or three clapped Castle on the back, grinning wickedly. Some were chuckling heartily at the horror-struck look on Beckett's face and still more broke into a round of applause.

Beckett's phone chirped the arrival of a text message. Looking slightly faint at all the attention, she pulled it out of her pocket. "Lanie," she said in an undertone, and read the message aloud.

"She says she can't believe we didn't tell her, I'm the worst best friend ever, and to remind Javi that he promised her dinner at Le Cirque if he won the bet."

Castle laughed to himself, partly at the message, and partly at her still stricken expression.

"Tell me you didn't know about this," she said, demandingly.

"I had an idea," he confessed. "But I didn't think it had gone this far."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Would you have believed me if I did?"

"I'd believe anything of you, Richard Castle," she said, and to his very great surprise, squeezed his hand, the first time she'd ever touched him in a girlfriend-like manner in public. She usually saved the affection for behind the closed doors of their respective apartments. "Anything."

He saw her glance up now, and her eyes meet his. They narrowed slightly.

"What are you staring at?" she asked.

"You."

"Well, don't. It's creeping me out."

"But I like looking at you."

"Do I need to remind you that I own a gun?"

"I'm well aware."

"Then you're probably also aware that I haven't been to the range lately, and could really do with a little target practice. Get my drift?"

"Yes, dear."

He couldn't wait to be married again.

* * *

><p>Lisbon shoved her way through the crowd at JFK. People jostled her from all directions as she and Jane made their way through the terminal to baggage claim. She couldn't believe how busy the airport was on a Tuesday afternoon, but then again, this was New York. Everything was busy.<p>

"Why don't you start waving that badge of yours around?" Jane suggested, as a family barrelled past them, their four children all shrieking with excitement. "Cut us a path through the Red Sea."

As if to emphasize his point, a large group of people emerged from a nearby gate, all wearing red T-shirts and hats. Jane smirked.

"That's against the rules," she said.

"Meh, rules," said Jane, carelessly. "Rules are there to be broken."

"In your world, maybe. Here in the place we call reality, rules are there to be obeyed."

He sighed. "You're such a cop."

"And you're such a…well, to be honest I don't know what you are."

"I'm a riddle, wrapped in an enigma."

"Wrapped in a three-piece suit," she snapped, as they reached the baggage carousels.

"Lisbon! Jane!"

They looked up to see a man leaning against the wall, beaming at them and waving.

"Castle," she said in surprise, when they reached him. "You didn't have to come meet us, we could have got a cab."

"Beckett thought it'd be nice if I picked you guys up," he said. "Or rather, she said if I didn't get out of her sight for a couple of hours, that there wasn't going to be a wedding on Friday night, but there might be a murder." His eyes were twinkling with laughter.

Lisbon gave him a quick hug hello. He dropped a friendly kiss on her cheek, and then turned to Jane with his hand outstretched. He looked slightly taken aback when after they'd shaken hands, Jane hugged him too, and several people nearby turned to look at the spectacle.

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Jane, cut it out," she ordered her boyfriend. "Check your pockets," she advised Castle in a clear undertone when Jane had let go.

Castle did so, still looking a little stunned.

"I apologise for his insanity," said Lisbon. "I'm thinking of having him professionally evaluated. Or at least collared and tagged."

"Test away, Lisbon," said Jane, comfortably. "They'll never find anything."

"That's what you think," she retorted. "But I'm sure that any expert would agree you're crazy."

"I am," he said. "Crazy for you."

She flushed, Jane smiled and Castle raised his eyebrows.

After they'd collected their bags, Castle lead the way out of the airport and over to short-term parking. Lisbon had to admit, she was slightly disappointed when he stopped at a Crown Victoria. She'd been kind of hoping to see the famous Ferrari.

"It belongs to the precinct," he said, reading the expression on her face. "I came straight from there."

He unlocked the door and slid into the driver's seat while the two of them took the back.

"So," he said, after wending his way out of the airport. "You guys are…?" he glanced at them in the rear view mirror, not needing to ask the rest of the question as his face was doing it for him.

"Yeah, we are," said Jane, putting an arm around her waist and giving her a little squeeze.

Castle grinned. "That's great. I'm happy for you."

"So are we," said Jane. "Well at least _I_ am. Lisbon I think is more along the lines of-"

"Resigned," she finished for him. "I'm resigned to my fate."

"Oh, you make it sound like I forced you into it. I would never force you to do anything. _Duping_ you however…"

Lisbon saw his genuine smile, and smiled too. Finally, after so much pain and suffering, Jane was happy. Because of her. It made her feel good. He must have guessed what she was thinking, because he chose that moment to plant a kiss on the top of her head.

"Really guys, get a room," Castle joked.

"We plan to," said Jane, suggestively, earning himself a swat on the arm from Lisbon. "But check-in isn't for another three hours."

"Hey why don't you two come by the precinct?" Castle said, eagerly. "We've seen your digs, let us show you ours. And I know the others will want to see you. Kate and I can drop you off at your hotel later. Where are you staying?"

"The Plaza," said Jane.

"Expensive taste," remarked Castle. "Been cleaning out some more casinos, Jane?"

"No, I made a big profit on a property I sold recently," said Jane smoothly. Lisbon knew he meant the Malibu house. Deep down, she wasn't sure he had made the right decision by selling it. Terrible things had happened in that house, but there were good memories too. She thought he'd been too rash in putting it on the market, and if he'd thought it through a little more, he might have wanted to keep it. But that was water under the bridge now, and they'd used some of the money from the sale to buy their apartment, so there had been benefits.

Two days after their trip to the cemetery, they'd travelled up to Malibu to visit the place, and to get the smiley-face off the wall. She'd suggested they call a service to come and get rid of it for them, but he had insisted on doing it himself. It had been a long, painful day. She remembered Jane's hands had shaken as they applied the first coat of paint, obscuring the dreaded symbol of everything he had endured. When they finished, he'd dropped to his knees and collapsed into sobs. She knelt beside him and held him for what must have been hours, before he was able to stand again.

How she hated Red John that day. Even rotting away in a grave somewhere, he was still managing to screw with Jane's life. She knew the serial killer had left his mark on Jane, would always have a grip.

She just had to make damn sure that _her_ grip was stronger.

* * *

><p>"Honey, I'm home!"<p>

Beckett smiled to herself as her fiancé bounced back into the precinct, announcing his arrival at the top of his lungs. "And look who I brought with me!" Trailing in after him were a grinning Jane and an amused-looking Lisbon.

"Jane! Agent Lisbon! How's it going?" Ryan and Esposito leapt to their feet and shook hands with the new arrivals. Beckett heard Jane and Lisbon greet them as she approached. Jane looked up and caught sight of her.

"Ah, if it isn't the blushing bride herself," he said.

"Shut up, Jane," she and Lisbon said, together, causing everyone, including Jane, to chuckle. "I'm glad you two came," she said.

"Wouldn't miss it," said Jane. "Cho, Rigsby and Van Pelt send their congratulations."

"Hey Jane," said Esposito, suddenly. "We're having a little bachelor party thing for Castle tonight. We thought we'd hit the Old Haunt, have some drinks, and play some poker. You in?"

"Poker?" Jane's eyebrow quirked, and Beckett saw Lisbon shoot him a warning look. "I'm there."

"What are you doing tonight, Kate?" Castle asked. "You and Lanie going for girl's night out?"

"Not exactly," said Beckett. She'd never been a fan of bachelorette parties, they were just an excuse to get drunk and hire strippers. Besides, she and Lanie had done that last week, while Castle had been spending the evening with Alexis. She had something different in mind for tonight.

"Want to join me, Lisbon?" she asked, apparently taking her by surprise. "While the boys are off acting like twelve-year olds?"

Lisbon blinked. Beckett saw Castle smile at her encouragingly and after a split-second hesitation, she accepted.

"Don't worry," Beckett said. "It's something we're both going to enjoy."

* * *

><p>For the fourth time in an hour, a chorus of groans went up around the poker table. Jane gleefully raked all the chips towards him with his hands, while the other three threw their cards down in disgust.<p>

"All right, whose bright idea was it to play poker with a master con-artist?" Ryan said, shooting an angry look at Esposito.

"Sorry bro," said Esposito. "I forgot."

Jane smirked. "That's why you guys should make yourselves a memory palace," he said, tapping the side of his head with his cards. "You'll never forget anything."

The other three groaned again, having already been subjected to a long talk about the supposed 'memory palace,' when Castle had made the mistake of asking.

"Another round, gentlemen?" Castle offered, waving over a waitress.

"Same again, Mr Castle?" she asked.

He smiled at her. "Yes please Julie," he said. "And how many times do I have to tell you to call me Rick?"

She blushed. "Sorry, I just never had a boss who let me call him by his first name before. I'll get those drinks for you, uh, Rick."

As she walked away, Jane peered at Ryan and Esposito. "So what time did you book the stripper for?" he asked.

Ryan laughed. "Sorry man, no stripper. Not worth the risk."

"How do you mean?"

Castle grinned. "Think about it, Jane. Ryan's married. You and I are both dating cops, and Esposito-"

"My girlfriend's a medical examiner. She knows how to commit murder without leaving any evidence," said Esposito.

Jane chuckled. "Good point."

"We figured it'd make it easier for everyone if we restricted ourselves to poker and beer."

"Maybe we should have just stuck to the beer," put in Castle. "Because Jane, you're killing us."

Jane split the chips up evenly, and pushed them back to the others, ignoring their protests. It was never about the money. He had enough money. But he couldn't remember the last time he had done something so normal as this. For so long, his life had been work, and Red John and nothing else. He hadn't had the time or inclination for friends and socialising. He'd barely touched alcohol since the murders. And now, here he was, having a drink with friends like a normal person.

His life was starting to regain balance. He had his job. He had Lisbon. He had free time again. He should organise to do something like this with Cho and Rigsby sometime. He made a mental note to do that once they got back to Sacramento.

After much insisting, and a threat of hypnotism on his part, Ryan, Castle and Esposito took their money back, but not without severe protest.

"Jane, you beat us fair and square," said Castle. "At least I think you did. You have to get _something_."

"Actually," he said slowly. "There _is_ something I want. Castle, I was wondering if I could ask you a favour…"

* * *

><p>Across town, a flurry of bullets was expelled from two guns, and tore through paper targets.<p>

Beckett lifted her earmuffs and glanced over at the next gallery.

"Nice grouping," she remarked.

Lisbon, who was reloading her Glock, smiled at her. "Thanks," she said. "You too. Not the usual choice for a pre-wedding celebration."

"Some women choose massages for stress relief. I choose superior firepower," said Beckett.

"Amen to that."

They both emptied another magazine of bullets before speaking again.

"So, you and Jane, huh?" asked Beckett.

"Yep."

"What's that like?"

"Mostly the same," she shrugged. "But with a few added privileges," She smiled to herself. "He's still a whack-job," she went on. "But I love him. And how about you? Ready to be Mrs Castle number three?"

"Have to be, don't I?" said Beckett. "The wedding's in three days. Too late to back out now."

Lisbon glanced over at her. "You're not thinking of backing out, are you?" she asked, sounding concerned.

"No," said Beckett. "To use your word, he's a whack-job. But he's _my_ whack-job."

* * *

><p>The wedding day arrived, clear and bright. Castle was to be found in a room at the Plaza, pacing up and down in his tux, while Ryan and Esposito, the joint best men, watched.<p>

"How much longer?" Castle snapped.

"Two hours," said Ryan, glancing at his watch. "Seriously Castle, you've got to calm down."

"I can't," he said. "Something's going to go wrong, I just know it. The ceiling will fall in or the celebrant won't turn up, or one of our exes will turn up and object, or the band will play the wrong song…"

"Castle," Esposito began.

"I've got that feeling guys, and it's not just 'melodramatic writer' stuff, it's real, and it's going to happen, and-"

"Bro, stop pacing, you're making me dizzy!" said Esposito, loudly.

Castle froze for a moment, and then sunk into a chair.

"I can't do this," he said, in a flat voice.

"What?" said Ryan and Esposito, in unison.

"I can't go out there," he said. "She's going to change her mind. I know she is. She's been dropping hints for ages; how I could I not have seen it before? Guys," he looked pleadingly at them, "don't make me go out there. I can't stand by the altar like a fool when I know she's not coming. I can't do it. I can't bear it!"

The best men exchanged looks. Never had they imagined that Castle would freak out like this on his wedding day. They both felt deeply sorry for whatever poor bastards had served as best men at the last two weddings. At least they had each other for back up.

"That's not going to happen," said Ryan bracingly. "She loves you, she'll be there."

"But what if she isn't?" Castle pressed. "What if she woke up this morning and decided I'm not her one and done?"

"You're being ridiculous-"

"No I'm not. It's all so clear to me now…" He went ranting on, as Ryan threw a pleading look at Esposito.

It was time to get tough. Esposito grabbed Castle by his tie and hoisted him to his feet.

"Castle," he snarled, over the writer's babbling. "You have the next ten seconds to get a grip, or you'll be walking down the aisle with a black eye. Either way, you're going. Capiche?"

Castle stopped talking, but his eyes were still full of panic.

"Listen to me," said Esposito. "Beckett's like a sister to me. And if you don't go out there and marry her, and you break her heart, I will knock your block off."

"And I'll help," put in Ryan.

The threats achieved what the encouragement could not, and slowly, Castle calmed.

"You're right," he said. "Sorry guys."

Feeling it was now safe to do so, Esposito released him.

"It's OK bro," he said. "That's what best men are for." He and Ryan hit a high-five.

"Please don't tell her," said Castle imploringly.

"Tell that her groom-to-be wanted to do a runner on her wedding day?" said Esposito. "Why would we want to do that?"

* * *

><p>"Honey, you look gorgeous!" Lanie cooed, as she inspected Beckett from head to toe. "Castle's going to flip when he sees you."<p>

Beckett looked uncertainly at her reflection in the mirror. "You think so?"

Lanie rolled her eyes. "Hey, I was with you when you bought that dress. Do you really think I'd let you walk down the aisle looking any less than perfect?"

"You look great, Beckett," chimed in Alexis, from the other side of the room, where she was putting on her shoes.

"Thanks," she said to her almost-stepdaughter. "So do you, both of you."

The doorknob turned and Jim Beckett entered the room. "Not long to go now," he said, and then his eyes settled on his daughter.

"I always wondered what your wedding day would be like," he said.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lanie move respectfully over to the other side of the room and engage Alexis in conversation, as thought determined not to overhear.

"You know, when you started phoning me up every week and talking about Rick the whole time, I knew you'd end up marrying him."

"Well that makes one of us," she said. "If someone had told me I'd ever be doing this…"

He smiled, and pushed a stray lock of her behind her ear.

"You picked a good man, Katie," he said. "All I ever wanted for you was someone you could trust, and who would look after you whether you wanted him to or not. And I know your mother would have loved him." He kept smiling, but Beckett detected a trace of sadness in his eyes. She grasped his hand.

"I'm going to miss her today," she said.

"So will I," he said. "I'll let you finish getting ready." He kissed her on the cheek and left the room.

Beckett felt the beginnings of tears in her eyes as her father departed. She blinked them back furiously, as Lanie rushed over, holding a box of tissues.

"Oh, no you don't!" she said, firmly. "Not after we just got your make-up right. No tears. Think of happy things. Rainbows, puppies, you and Writer Boy doing the nasty all night tonight…"

"Lanie!" Beckett shrieked, scandalized.

"Yeah, thanks for that mental picture," remarked Alexis, in disgust. "I'm now scarred for life."

"Alexis it's our job to get her down the aisle in one piece," Lanie reminded her. "And if we have to take a little hit so that can happen, so be it."

"I wouldn't call the loss of my innocence 'a little hit,' would you?" said Alexis, but she was smiling, so apparently all was forgiven.

"Where the hell is your bouquet?" said Lanie, hunting around the room for it. "It should be here. Maybe the florist left it at the front desk, I'll go check." She hurried out of the room and closed the door behind her.

Beckett took another long, nervous look into the mirror. For a wedding dress, hers was very simple, a long, strapless, A-line one, with only the tiniest bit of beading on the bodice. But she still felt overdressed as she examined it.

"Will you stop worrying?" said Alexis, suddenly appearing at her side. "Lanie's right. It's perfect."

Beckett stepped away from the mirror. She knew if she stayed there any longer, she'd work herself up into such a state that she wouldn't want to leave the room.

"So," said Alexis. "This is it."

She nodded.

"I gotta admit, I never thought we would get here."

"You thought I was going to bail?"

"Yes," said Alexis without any shame or hesitation, but she smiled a little. "But I'm glad I was wrong."

Beckett turned to look at her, hopefully. "Does this mean what I think it means?" she asked.

"Yes," said Alexis again. "I forgive you. On one condition," she turned suddenly stern. "Take good care of my dad, won't you?"

"Of course," said Beckett.

"In that case," Alexis' face broke into a wide smile, "welcome to the family." She held out her arms and they hugged.

At that point, Lanie burst into the room again. "I got it!" she said, waving the bouquet over her head, triumphantly. Beckett relieved her of it.

Her father poked his head through the door. "It's time," he said.

* * *

><p>Castle shifted from foot to foot by the altar. He knew Ryan and Esposito were watching him closely for signs of potential flight, ready to close ranks at a moment's notice. He caught Ryan's eye, who shook his head slightly. Castle took that to mean, '<em>Stay put or else<em>.'

In the front row sat his mother, in a spectacular red dress, sobbing into a tissue. He rolled his eyes. Nothing had even happened yet and she was milking it for all it was worth. A few rows back, he saw Jane, with his arm around Lisbon, chatting animatedly to a red-haired woman he recognised as Agent Jordan Shaw from the FBI. He was glad she'd managed to get here. With her RSVP, she'd also sent back a little handwritten note of only three words.

_"Told you so."_

In the row in front of Jordan and two or three seats to the left were Kyra Blaine and her husband Greg. Kyra caught him looking at her and waved. He and Beckett had crashed her wedding after all (though unintentionally,) it seemed fitting that they should be here for theirs.

On the right side of the room he spotted his agent, Paula, tapping away at her Blackberry. He shuddered at the sight of Gina, his ex-wife, sitting with some other representatives for Black Pawn Publishing. His friend Donna, from the Ledger, on her cellphone, Ryan's wife Jenny, Kate's old high-school best friend, Maddie, Karpowski, Captain Montgomery and other friends from the precinct, even the mayor, half-hidden in a corner, they were all here. Everyone important to them was in this room, to see their wedding. He swallowed, and chanced a look at Esposito, who raised an eyebrow, and cracked his knuckles, threateningly.

And then the music started. First into the room was Lanie, sauntering along in the blue dress Kate had picked for her bridesmaids. She was succeeded by Alexis, who beamed at him, and he felt a surge of pride in his beautiful daughter. And then, the doors opened for the final time, and there was Kate, on her father's arm.

The guests let out a sigh as she started to make her way down the aisle. All his doubts vanished as he took her in. Why the hell had he even considered the possibility of not marrying her?

She was walking so damn slow. He had half a mind just to run up there and meet her in the middle, but he forced himself to stay put.

And then, she was there, kissing her father's cheek and then turning to him, and seeing only him, like he saw only her.

The ceremony felt like it went for only seconds. One moment, the celebrant was welcoming them all, the next he was saying his vows (only he said 'always' instead of 'I do.' It felt right.) A microsecond later, they were pronounced husband and wife.

"You may kiss the bride," said the celebrant, almost shouting to be heard over the thunderous applause. Castle didn't need telling twice. He seized her by the waist, dipped her backwards dramatically, to whistles and catcalls from the guests, and for the first time, kissed his wife.

* * *

><p>Lisbon sat at a linen-coloured table, nursing a glass of champagne. Around her, the reception was in full swing, the room swarming with people chatting, laughing, snatching champagne from the waitresses circling the room. In the middle of it all, Castle and Beckett stood arm-in-arm, besieged by well wishers, he with a smile wider then she'd ever seen, Beckett positively glowing. She smiled at the sight. She was so glad they'd finally seen what had been right under their noses all along.<p>

The chair beside her was drawn back with a scraping sound. She was unsurprised when Jane dropped into it, holding a piece of sushi.

"You hate sushi," she said.

"True," he said. "But I was hungry, and it was there. I'm a simple man, Lisbon."

She snorted. "Yeah, right."

He stuffed it into his mouth, wrinkling his nose at the taste. Once he swallowed it, he grinned. "Here comes trouble," he said, pointing. Beckett and Castle were wending their way towards their table. It took them a while to get through the throng around them but eventually, they were standing before them.

"Congratulations guys," said Lisbon at once. Jane followed suit, and Castle grinned.

"Thanks," he said. "I'm the luckiest man on Earth right now."

"Don't get too comfortable, Castle," said Beckett. "There's always divorce."

"You know, you really shouldn't call me that anymore," he told her. "It doesn't make sense. You're a Castle now, too."

"But I've always called you that," she protested. "Starting to call you Rick after all these years would just be weird."

"Our whole relationship is weird," he said. "But I like it." She kissed him.

Under the table, Lisbon felt Jane lay his hand on her knee, and caress it gently. She bit her lip to keep from smiling.

"Actually," said Castle, managing to tear his eyes away from his wife. "We were hoping you could help us out with something." He was looking at Jane.

"What?" he asked.

"Apparently there's been some trouble in the kitchen and dinner's going to be a little late. People have been drinking and all the appetisers are gone. Do you think you could maybe put on a show for half an hour or so, keep the masses in check?"

Jane leapt to his feet eagerly. "I'll do it!" he said.

Lisbon grabbed Castle by the arm. "Are you sure about this?" she asked. "Things like this involving Jane have a tendency to end in disaster."

Castle shrugged. "I'm sure it'll be fine," he said.

They took seats next to Lisbon, who eyes were fixed on her boyfriend as he bounded onto a small stage and grabbed the microphone. Within minutes, he had his audience entranced as he joked and charmed them all like the true performer he was.

A part of him must really miss this, she thought, as Jane made a flower appear from nowhere and presented it to a young woman in the crowd. He was in his element up there, with the spotlight on him, with people hanging on to his every word. She hated that this had been soured for him forever by Red John, like so much else in his life.

His show continued. He picked volunteers from the audience to assist him. (Castle nearly choked on his champagne from laughter when Jane made a certain woman disappear, which Beckett informed her in an undertone, was Meredith, one of his two ex-wives.) When he'd recovered, Castle leaned over to her.

"My mother will be loving this," he said. "It turns out she's a big fan of your man. Used to watch his show on cable."

"We should introduce them," said Lisbon. "There's nothing he likes better than having his ego stroked."

Up on stage, Jane was waving his hands for quiet. Silence fell immediately.

"Folks, I have one last trick up my sleeve," he said. "But once again, I'm going to need some help."

At least twenty hands shot skywards. Jane chuckled.

"Thanks guys, but I have someone in particular in mind for this one." He shaded his eyes with one hand, and scanned the room. She felt a sudden sense of foreboding as his gaze landed on her.

"Ah, there she is," he said, confirming her fear. "Lisbon, will you come up here?"

People swivelled around to look at her, but she stayed resolutely seated, shaking her head. "No way," she said.

"Oh come on, don't be such a spoilsport," he said.

"I said no," she repeated.

"Castle?" Jane said. "A little help?"

"With pleasure," answered the writer, and he pulled Lisbon to her feet with a firm grip, and started dragging her towards Jane.

Lisbon would have flipped him right then and there if it hadn't been his wedding. Given the circumstances, the best she could do was shoot him venomous looks as they neared the stage.

Jane was waiting for her with his hand outstretched. With no other choice, and despising them both, she took it and let him pull her up to him.

"You two planned this," she hissed accusingly at him. "There was no mess-up in the kitchen."

Jane looked puzzled, but she knew it was all an act. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said quietly. Then he swung around to the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen allow me to introduce Teresa Lisbon of the CBI. Isn't she lovely?" he added, winking at her, and there was some polite applause.

Lisbon found herself tuning out as Jane explained his final flourish, something about 'metamorphosis.' It seemed to her like a repetition of the trick he'd done at the CBI benefit a few years back. Well, at least it would be straightforward enough, Jane would make an egg disappear and all she'd have to do was act surprised when the chicken turned up in her jacket pocket.

Then she could get off this stage and get a nice stiff drink.

The lights dimmed, so the only illumination came from the spotlight that was hitting her right in the eyes. She grimaced in discomfort, but nobody seemed to notice, they were all too busy watching Jane. That figured.

Ah yes, there was the egg. She heard the audience gasp as he tossed it into the air and it vanished. She'd have to ask him one day how he did it. When she was through being mad at him of course.

"And now," he said, when the clapping and whispering had died down. "I'd like to ask my lovely assistant to reach into her pocket, take out whatever is in there, and show it to everyone."

"I hate you," she murmured to him, digging around in her pocket, expecting her fingers to hit feathers at any moment, but they didn't. There was nothing in there. But then she moved her hand a fraction to the left and it brushed against something small and round. Confused, she picked up whatever it was and held up in the air in front of her. The crowd gasped again. The spotlight was still burning in her line of vision so she had no idea what it was. A penny, perhaps? He should have stuck with the chick. Much more impressive.

"Can someone move that spotlight?" she heard Jane say, and to her relief it was done instantly. Blinking furiously as her eyes readjusted, she noticed that every other eye in the room was upon on her. But Jane, where was Jane? She looked across and then she spotted him on the floor beside her. On one knee, looking scared out of his mind.

Understanding hit her like a freight train. There was only one answer to this situation, in her experience. But it was too soon; they'd only been together a little over a year, only been living together for six weeks. It couldn't be…but yet, what else _could_ it be?

For the first time, her eyes focused on the object in her hand. A diamond winked in the strong spotlight. Good Lord, that thing was the size of a golf ball, it must have cost him a fortune…

"Teresa?" said Jane, recalling her attention. "Will you marry me?"

The room attained the kind of absolute silence she associated with a morgue. She looked from the ring, to his hopeful face, and then back again, and said the first thing that came into her head.

"You miserable, conniving, son of a bitch."

* * *

><p>Castle let out a small groan, as the crowd gasped yet again.<p>

"I told him this was a bad idea," he whispered to Kate, who was holding his hand tightly. "I _told_ him!"

He'd spent nearly all of yesterday trying to persuade Jane not to go ahead with his plan, but to no avail. Jane had listened politely to all his arguments and then gone out to a local jeweller to pick up the ring.

"Relax," she whispered back. "Just wait and see what happens."

"Just when I thought you couldn't sink any lower," Lisbon said. "You go and hijack your own friend's wedding just to make a spectacle of yourself. You are unbelievable!"

Jane then did the very last thing Castle would have done in this situation. He started to chuckle.

"Very astute, my dear," he said, mildly. "But to answer my question: yes or no?"

"Why I would I want to marry an asshole like you?" said Lisbon viciously.

"Search me," said Jane, with a shrug. "But you're considering it." He was starting to grin. "I know you are."

"I am not!" she shot back.

"Are too."

"Am _not_!"

"Then why can't you look me in the eye?"

The crowd tittered. Castle focused on Lisbon and saw that she did indeed seem to be having trouble meeting Jane's gaze-and she was blushing.

"Hold the phone," he whispered to Kate.

"The light's in my eyes," said Lisbon.

"Liar," Jane countered coolly. It had sounded pretty unconvincing to Castle too.

"But it's too soon," she said. "Way too soon."

"What else could life possibly throw at us?" Jane asked her, gently. "I love you. That's not going to change."

She softened. "I love you too, but that's not the point-"

"So what is the point?" Jane pressed. "Scared you'll like it?"

Her eyes narrowed again. "I'm not scared of you," she scoffed.

"Then prove it," he said. "Say you'll marry me."

"Fine!" she said, hands on hips.

"Fine?"

"Fine," she repeated. "Fine, I'll marry you, you insufferable-"

But she was cut off as Jane pulled her towards him into a passionate kiss, and the audience erupted into cheers, the loudest of which came from Castle and Beckett.

"That was the weirdest proposal I have ever witnessed," said Castle, as Jane and Lisbon broke apart, with mile-wide smiles on their faces, despite Lisbon being practically scarlet with mortification. She slipped the ring onto her finger and then let Jane lead her down from the stage, as the clapping continued.

"I swear to God, if you had proposed to _me_ like that, I'd have decked you," said Kate. He was suddenly very glad that when he'd asked for her hand, he'd done it in the privacy of the loft. Even so, he'd still managed to make a fool of himself, stumbling over his words, and dropping the ring. Once again, his writer's eloquence had abandoned him at a crucial moment.

Music started up from the band in the corner and the crowd around the stage began to disperse. Over on the other side of the room, he saw Lisbon and Jane leaning against a wall, having an intense conversation. Every so often, he caught a glimpse of the diamond as Lisbon flung her arms around in irritation.

"Let's leave them to themselves for a while," he said. "Want to dance with your husband?"

She smiled that beautiful smile. "Always."

* * *

><p>The rest of the night passed in something of a blur for Lisbon. She sat through speeches without taking in a word, lifted her glass in countless toasts she never listened to and ate a piece of wedding cake without realising it. One moment she was holding a full plate and then there was nothing left but crumbs.<p>

She was too distracted even to laugh when Jane was accosted by Castle's Broadway queen mother and subjected to ten minutes of highly-coloured retellings of life in the theatre.

Jane had spent most of the evening by her side, but seemed to pick up on her wish to be silent, for he didn't push her to talk or do anything. In fact, he too had been pretty much silent the whole time. She wondered if maybe he was regretting his proposal, perhaps even trying to find the right way to take it back.

"Hey," Beckett appeared next to her. "Nice ring."

She took another look at the offending object that had been commanding her attention for most of the night. It _was_ nice. Exquisite even. Everything a woman would want in an engagement ring.

"Yes," she agreed. "So is yours."

"Do you regret it?" asked Beckett. "Saying yes?"

"Surprisingly, no," said Lisbon. "That's what scares me."

They both laughed quietly.

"Really stuck with them now, aren't we?" said Lisbon after a while.

"Guess so," said Beckett.

"We're insane, aren't we?"

"Probably." She held up her glass of champagne. "To insanity."

* * *

><p>Over at the bar, Castle and Jane too, were raising a glass.<p>

"Congratulations, Jane," said Castle. "You deserve it."

"And to you, Castle," said Jane. "You're a lucky man."

"Here's to never having to put ourselves through the torture of proposing _ever_ again," said Castle, fervently.

Jane grinned. "I'll drink to that."

* * *

><p><strong>Perhaps a little clichéd, but there's only so many ways you can write a wedding. I did my best, but once again, fluff isn't really my forte. <strong>

**Thank you to everyone who has read my crossover. It was the hardest story I've ever written, but I'm pleased with how it turned out. I hope you enjoyed it too.**

**Until next time,**

**Waterbaby.**


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